Like Winds Part 1 Merged

THE SLAPS HURT.
LIKE WINDS
on a
WILTED TREE
A NOVEL
SATVIK GOLECHHA
Dear Reader,
There’s an enduring tale I have for you. It does not begin or end within its interval.
Rather, it drapes an era. It does not matter which instance of the tale I pick — the tale is
always the same: indifferent and phoenixlike.
The instance of the tale embodied in this story is set in the Gaeadore Islands
1
(pronounced “gee-ya-dore”) — a group of more than twenty islands known for hosting
the most grandiose and cut-throat triennial quest on the planet — the G. Every third
year, teenagers from all around the Gaeadore come to the capital to participate after
three years of all-consuming, exacting training at an Academy.
This particular instance of the tale happens at a place unapproachable from yours, and at
a time not-so-distant from yours. Unlike the tale itself, this instance is imaginary. Any
resemblances you might draw from the people, situations, and places of this instance
were not of my volition.
But most importantly: any realizations, inspirations, epiphanies, or lessons you might
get from this instance are totally on you — especially if they go against what your
parents taught :)
May the narrative fulfill its primary aim: to entertain.
With so much love,

The Storyteller
1
twenty-six at the time of writing, changes with time and tide
LIKE WINDS ON A WILTED TREE
Introduction
Whenever I look at long white hair on someone, it reminds me of the white-bearded,

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long-haired man I saw playing his lute near a waterfall. I was twenty-four. That was
eight years ago. I was on vacation, but the waterfall wasn’t a big one, and it definitely
wasn’t the attraction we had ventured to see; it just appeared on our way. He saw me sit
beside him and he said, “Can you please do me a favor?”. I said sure.
“Can you look at my long hair?”, he said. I said “Sorry?”.
“Can you look at my long hair, while I speak about them?”, he repeated.
I felt confused. Did I miss something? I said, “Okay.” I tried to tell him through my
expressions that it was a super weird request. But that was when I started looking, really
looking, at his hair. It was all pure white, and long, obviously, and was fastened in a
ponytail with a grayish, metallic wrap-around. Very unusual and pensive.
He said, “Son, look at the life of a strand of hair.” — he was holding up a strand while he
said this, his eyes staring into mine — “It starts from a random place on the ball — the
round head, and fights for everything with the strands around it — everything from
space to air to nutrition to attention.”
2
A musical instrument with plucked strings and a large hollow cavity
1
He continued, “It fights for everything and yet wins nothing. It goes through the bend3,
and comes out of the other side. If the bend is not too tight for it, of course, or else it
breaks. Out of the ball and into the waterfall. Up until it reaches the bend, it knows
exactly where to go — the hair. It’s destiny is fixed. It cannot avoid the bend. It slips
along the surface of the ball, and goes into the bend.”
“But after the bend, the strand of hair has no destiny. It can swerve and take its own
path. It can split and stop growing. It can go wherever it wants and end at a place that’s
completely new.”
The analogy sure was interesting! When I reached home that evening, I had time to
think it over, and I am now pretty convinced that it was an analogy about the life of a
human on this planet — which is the ball. But back at the waterfall, the long-haired man
was in his game, and his abrupt pace never gave me time to think. I wondered how he
stumbled upon this analogy — maybe he had spent the last thirty years looking at the
long hair of all the women who came to the waterfall, and some men — and in the
process, he grew a fine set of his own.
After a contemplative pause, he started again, “Just after the bend is the most important
part of the journey. It’s the gush. For the first time, the strand is set free. It can venture
into the unknown. It can stray, it can steer, it can shift, it can swerve. After the gush, it’s
journey is again predictable. The strand just follows a pattern after the gush and it’s the
leftover push that leads it onto its path. It is unique, different from the other strands.
But it is all decided in the gush.”
3
With time I realized that he was probably saying “band”, referring to the metallic scrunchie that was
keeping his hair together
2
He continued, “The strand leads a very boring life, son, except the three parts that matter
— the slip, the bend, and the gush. Tell me the three parts, and I will tell you everything
that is possible to know.”
I wanted to ask him a hundred questions, but the one that came out was this one: “But
why do we keep the band, then? Why not just throw it away?”. I just couldn’t make myself
say “bend” like him — I was probably afraid he’d find it offensive.
He gave me a small grin, showing his slightly larger and ivory but otherwise
strong-looking teeth, and replied, in a simple tone: “When there is a lot of hair, son, you
need the bend, or the hair comes to the face.”
That was the last thing he said to me, and after that he acted as if I didn’t exist. He stared
at the waterfall, and no matter how many times I called him, or how emphatically I
waved my hands in front of him, he never even half-glanced at me. I couldn’t touch him
to grab his attention — that was clear. So I got up and went ahead on the soft-soil road,
while he went back to playing his lute.
It has been many years since. And I’ve realized that the strands do indeed lead a boring
life. Except the three parts that matter. The three parts that fill their life with fear,
despair, and hope. The three parts that fall between the cracks on arid soil and stay there,
overlooked. The three parts that tell a story.
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Part I: The Slip
(blank)
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Chapter 1
Mr. Steketee had woken up at four in the morning almost every day of his
sixty-years-long life, and that too, without an alarm clock. He had been of strong build
but had now become sluggish and plumpish with age. He had worked in retail sales
before a voluntary retirement two years ago, and had a number of “survival hacks” that
he threw at everyone younger. Even though he was himself unsteady with most of his
routines, he was not going to leave his son Kael without passing on some of his immense
wisdom.
He was taking Kael to island #24. The Gaeadore Islands are numbered from #1 to #26.
Many years ago, a government official4 numbered them in decreasing order of
population count. That order is pretty much gone now5, like the official, but it still
people’s lives a bit more miserable than needed.
At five on the dot, he woke up Kael. Kael had this queer habit of yawning at least ten
times just after he woke up. They were on a nightly maritime cruise from island #1 (their
home island) to island #24, which was in the way towards island #3, but was spread
across such that it didn’t allow ships to directly reach #3. Almost everyone who wanted
to go to #3 had to go to island #24 first, and then canoe to wherever on island #3 they
wanted to go. Mr. Steketee had thought that Kael should take the canoe on his own to
“learn to survive in this tough world”. In an hour, they would reach island #24.
After his ten yawns, Kael freshened up, took a toast with some tea for breakfast, and sat
next to his dad. This was his last hour with him for a long while, and he had a
4
clearly in possession of brainpower way beyond the scope of this book
5
This is the order of decreasing population count currently: 1 > 3 > 2 > 4 > 5 > 13 > 8 > 7 > 9
> 6 > 12 > 10 > 11 > 14 > 18 > 17 > 24 > 15 > 16 > 19 > 21 > 22 > 26 > 20 > 23 > 25.
5
foreboding that it was going to be some of his dad’s classic “life advice time”. His dad
told him that he would return from #24, and Kael was to hire a canoe. Just as the sailor
killed the engine, Mr. Steketee started, “Kylie.”. His dad always called him “Kylie”.
“Whatall your mom told you Kylie is certainly very important to note. But let me give
you some man-to-man advice you should never forget. All this ‘bathing daily’, and
‘cutting your nails’, and whatall, Kylie, are just whims and tantrums of the rich and the
delicate and whatall, is all, Kylie.”
“I understand, dad.”, said a slightly surprised Kael. Up until now, his dad had preached
bathing daily.
“No you don’t. What I mean is — don’t waste your precious time and energy and
whatall on all of this Kylie, is all. You have just one goal. To win the G.”, he summed it
up. He also talked about hard work and perseverance and never giving up and the fact
that there was nobody out there in the whole wide Gaeadore islands who was better
than him.
The ship slowly came to a halt near a wooden platform for passengers to get down.
Kael’s dad gave him a tight hug and they exchanged goodbyes. Kael picked up all his
stuff and got down. He was nervous, sure, but even more excited. This was the first time
he was going to live away from home. And he had heard so much about island #3, which
had some of the best Academies in all of Gaeadore.
As he walked down and waved back to his dad, he yelled: “I’ll miss you, dad.”. Mr.
Steketee yelled back, “But not too much — just call home every weekend whenever you
get the time, is all.”
Kael stopped waving back. He said he will.
6
⋆⋆⋆
With a large travel-bag on his shoulders and a wheel-suitcase to his left, Kyle walked
toward the other side of the wooden platform. On three sides of him were large flashy
billboards with banners of previous winners of the G. They had a big golden trophy in
their hand and an even bigger smile on their faces.
“The Heroes who made it big.”, Kael thought to himself.
For a while Kael stood there, daydreaming about his photograph up there, right at the
top with the other Heroes. When he looked around, he found at least a thousand others
probably sharing the same dream. Kael knew that there were a hundred thousand more
of these — and that he’s going to beat them all. Kael had won a lot of mini-quests as a
kid.
Winning such mini-quests was usually considered a sign that the kid was gifted and
ready to go to island #3 and participate in the G. Pre-adolescents from 11 to 15 were not
allowed to participate, and thus most children at any Academy were from ages 16 to 19
and were customarily called “Contenders”.
The wooden platform ended with a left turn, and at the end of it was a throng of
canoemen waiting beside their canoes for their next passengers. On the other side of the
platform, the right side, was a large cemented road starting with a crowded bazaar. Kael
assumed it would lead inside island #24. He looked around on both sides. All around
him were Contenders of various ages, shapes, sizes, clothes, cultures, and occasionally,
sex6.
6
While there was no rule necessitating this, every year more than seventy percent of the
Contenders were boys. Ayann (who will join the story later) has a few things to say on
this particular topic which it’ll be prudent to skip for now.
7
A very young child, around five maybe, caught his eye. He was standing outside a small
circular ostrich-ride (it’s like an inanimate horse-ride at fairs, except with inanimate
Ostriches7). He was with an older girl, perhaps his sister, and was bending forwards and
hanging by his underarms on the railing that was supposed to stop everyone from
entering without a ticket. His eyes were fixated on an Ostrich that was going up and
down with music on a circular track. His sister was wearing a pale pink frock and was
pulling him back. Kael used to love swings and rides at fairs back home. He stopped a
moment, went to the kid, and put in two coins in the vendor’s coin acceptor.
Kael got on a canoe. Almost all the canoes were powered through a small engine, and so
it seemed almost customary to spend the next half-hour talking with the canoeman. It
was all the more necessary because Kael didn’t know what part of island #3 he wanted to
go to — he hadn’t even decided what Academy8 he was going to join.
“So, what’s your name?”, started the canoeman.
“I’m Kael. Nice to meet you!”, replied Kael. The canoeman seemed pretty aged and had
a thoughtful, patient vibe. Kael liked the way he talked.
“Ka-el.”, he paused, “What’s it mean?”
“I’m not really sure. I think it’s good-looking”, Kael said.
“You figured out your Academy yet?”, the canoeman asked, sort of totally ignoring the
previous answer.
7
Ostriches are a very big part of the Gaeadore’s culture and mythology. Subsequently,
they are also a major part of the challenges in The G.
8
Each Contender joined an Academy, and for the next three years woke up, shat, trained,
learned, trained, ate, trained, shat, trained, slept, and trained at that Academy.
8
“No. Looks like most of the Heroes are from Genius.”, answered Kael, pointing at
banners and posters they were leaving behind.
The canoeman donned a smile. There was a long backstory to every Academy in island
#3, and a lot of teenagers had said this to him before. He didn’t need to think at all when
he replied — he had mastered it by now.
“Well, that’s true.”, began the canoeman. “Millions9 of Contenders arrive at island #3,
and everyone wants to join Genius.”
“But there are hundreds of other alternatives as well. Every Academy has a specialty, and
its own set of Masters. There’s Genius Academy — which trains the most number of
Heroes, Empathy Academy, Family Academy, Universe Institute — that changed its
name to Cosmos Institute last year, Grit-G — another big one, and on and on and on.
There’s so many of them; you pick any word and you’ll find that some rascal opened up
an Academy with that name10. They say it doesn’t really matter which one you pick —
it’s your own hard work that’ll get you there. But hard work needs to be in the right
direction if you ask me. I have been canoeing for all my life — and one thing I know is
that it needs the right direction.”
“But not everyone can enter Genius. They are peerlessly competent and have
pre-requisites. But if you can get into the Genius Academy’s Comet Cluster and train
9
It isn’t really in te millions; the Canoeman messed up a bit. Or maybe that was on purpose. In
any case, dear reader, as of the year I’m writing this instance of the tale, around a hundred
thousand Contenders came and trained in #3, and roughly the same number in various
Academies at all the other Islands combined.
10
This is, nightmarishly, not as exaggerated as it seems; case in point: there’s the
SheBang Academy, the Cauliflower Institute, and there’s a one-hip weirdo that runs an
Academy on his roof and calls it “Best Academy” (with the quotes).
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with every ounce of strength you’ve got, I’d say you’ll have very good chances of winning
the G. As good as anyone else on the Gaeadore. It’s all about the . . . atmosphere.”
They took a slight right to avoid hitting with another canoe. It was starting to get a little
dark, with a few rays of sunlight percolating through dim clouds and leaves of dragon
trees. By this time, Kael was sure that he wanted to go to the Genius Academy —that
that would give him the best shot, and he’ll get to train with the best of the lot. He was
one of the best back home, so he was nervously excited about the whole thing.
“What’s the Comet Cluster?”, asked Kael.
“The ten best Contenders of Genius. La crème de la crème. The Heroes of the future.
Every Academy identifies and banks on and invests heavily into a few Contenders. If
they make it big, their names make to those posters. The Genius Academy treasures its
Comets even more than its Masters.”, answers the canoeman.
He continued, “As I said, son, there are thousands of Academies, and it doesn’t matter
all that much which one you choose. Which one should I take you to?”.
“I’m going to the Genius Academy, please.”, Kael told the canoeman.
.....
They had reached the shore of a rightward extension of island#3, where the signboard in
an italic neon red said “Welcome to The Genius Academy”. It was dark, but not in
the humid and dull overcast way — there was a light breeze and some birds flying from
tall trees with almost no branches. The dot over the ‘i’ of Genius was a firebulb that
looked so cool with the neon red that Kael spent like a full minute beholding it. He got
out of the canoe with his luggage, thanked the canoeman and walked toward the
entrance.
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One of the two watchmen guarding the entrance of the Genius Academy walked up to
the canoe, and handed a white envelope to the canoeman. There was no other exchange
— neither of words nor expressions. Kael thought that they must know each other well,
and maybe this white envelope was a love letter the watchman wanted to be sent to his
wife. Kael walked into the entrance with a final wave to the canoeman, and walked
toward the “New Contender” office.
It was only a few months later that Kael found out that this canoeman didn’t even have
a wife.
⋆⋆⋆
As Matty filled up his satchel with his documents and a woollen jumper, he found in
between the folds of the jumper shiny glassy pieces of decoration he had hidden six years
ago. Of course, he didn’t hide them there in the first place — like a lot of other things,
those tiny, shiny pieces eventually reached the jumper.
He remembered a day. The day remembered him back. It was the day before their
parents’ anniversary six years ago. Matty’s elder sister Emilie was at home because it was
a Sunday. They had decided to make their parents the best anniversary gift in the world.
A huge collage-cum-scrapbook-cum-greeting card. One could say that it had taken them
twelve hours that day to make it, but really, it had taken months.
From the pile of office scrap their father was going to throw, Emilie had taken a large
file-case made of durable cardboard. The size was just perfect. She imagined opening the
file and a hundred different colors and figures and drawings and pictures and memories
popping out in three dimensions. There would also be a cake inside the file made with
felt-tips. She had already decided the flavor and design and frosting for the real cake, by
the way. She went straight to Matty and they hid it under their bed. From that day on,
11
they stockpiled everything they felt they could add to the card. It had all their best
photographs — the day they went to the beach and dad made a sandcastle using sand
and stones and shells that looked like mom; the day mom made her best-in-the-town
beef-and-bacon meatloaf for dad’s promotion party; Emilie and the parents with Matty
just a few days after he was born.
They went to a local shop in the city that sold cheap decoration items, and purchased
everything that was — well, cheap. Ribbons, colored polystyrene balls, glass-beads, tiny
mirror-buttons with glitter on the sides, paper, a new set of felt-tips — you name it.
They even brought some colorful balloons and glued them to their drawings. All the
while imagining the faces of their parents — the excitement and surprise they’d get when
they finally see the gift for the first time.
They wedged a thick paper sheet in between to create two layers, and then glued paper
cuttings on both the inner sides of a layer of gap, such that when opened, the paper
cuttings would stand in the center and reveal what’s inside. Emilie searched the internet
for the best anniversary quotes from children. They added stuff to it till it started
springing out from the sides, and in a few hours, the scrapbook had more colors than
their whole house. Mom and dad were going to be overjoyed when they saw it. Matty
and Emilie already were.
That was one of the best days of their life. After a few months, however, things started
going downhill, and immense hardship struck the family. Their father got ill and lost his
job, and mom had to take care of him. Emilia wasn’t cut out for the G — or for any
other quest — and had to resort to making and selling homemade craft, which wasn’t
well-paying enough to support the family. All hopes were now on Matty — who was fit
and young and good with quests.
The family had to sell their house and shift to a single-room-cum-kitchen in order to
save money to send Matty to one of the finest Academies to prepare for the G. He knew
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it’ll help the family get very good money. His father hadn’t nailed his quests, but he still
got a good enough job. And both his dad and uncle Conrad had said that Matty was
better than his dad.
He had to be.
13
Chapter 2
The Genius Academy boasted the largest privately-owned campus in the northwest. The
twelve-hundred acres were spread roughly in the shape of a triangle, and if you were to
take a helicopter ride, from far up above the campus looked like a giant guitar pick
playing a furtive tune with the Gaeadore Islands shaped as the Guitar around it. D
Minor9 with a Natural 7th — if one believes a predisposed Mandolin player who once
spent a hefty sum to see it for himself.
At the southernmost corner of the campus was the Grand Entrance (through which
Kael had entered last evening) that remained open 24x7, and at the opposite end was an
Exit that was always closed.
As soon as one entered the campus, they would find a shopping complex that took care
of the essentials: a unisex saloon, a grocery, a clothing store with drycleaning, and a
coffee shop that served snacks as well. Contenders in need of anything else — which
happened almost never in three years — had to go out of the campus into the city of
island #3. The shopping complex ended at a crossroads.
To the right was the Theoroom, where they were to attend all the theory sessions for
Merchant, Chase, and Pointer — the three games in the G. The Theoroom wasn’t a
single room but a hexagon with one classroom’s door on each edge — so a total of 6
theory rooms. To the left was the Boys’ Hostel. Further on the left was the Pointer
Court directly facing the Mess11, and the road ended with the Girls’ Hostel on the
eastern end of the campus. Opposite to the Girls’ Hostel, and the Pointer Court, and
11
The mess, common for both girls and boys, served breakfast, lunch, supper and snacks
for all Contenders except the Comet Cluster
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the Mess, and the Boys’ Hostel, was one huge field with sporadically planted trees. This
was used for Mango Merchant training. Circumferencing the entire academy was a
zig-zag periphery that acted as the Coast for training for the Coastal Chase. At a small
corner of the Merchant Field was a barn where Ostriches were kept.
⋆⋆⋆
The first week of one’s stay at the Genius Academy was always pretty taxing. One had to
settle into their hostel rooms, buy stuff, make acquaintances who would help them out
and not waste their time, get ready for their sessions and drills, stop cribbing about
being away from home and get used to it, and most importantly, get their Cluster
assigned to them. There are around a hundred Clusters, and getting a good Cluster was
a major goal, because the higher ones had much better Masters and facilities. Of course,
above all the Clusters was the Comet Cluster. You get in the Comet Cluster, and then
the Academy makes sure that you’ll be a Hero.
An elaborate procedure was in place to sort all Contenders into Clusters. First, everyone
went through a mini-quest with little prerequisites that tested their “innate qualities”
and “perseverance”. Then, they looked at their previous accolades, BMIs, fitness scores
from another simple test, and IQs before the Contender-Cluster mapping was put up
on the notice boards outside the Theoroom. The ten best of the lot were put into the
Comet Cluster. It was a dream for thousands of kids who entered to be a Comet. Kael
was confident of his selection, primarily because he was a natural at quests since
childhood. And he did. Kael got selected into the Comet Cluster, but the other kids
from his island (island #1), like 2078333 and 7688979, could not get in.
He was a Comet now. A Comet. “And in three years,”, he thought, “I’ll be a Hero.”
He quickly searched the notice board for names amongst all the numbers. There were
nine other Comets: Mayur, Alek, Marjo, Ayann, Eddie, Matty, Odell, Jacody, and
Kiana.
15
⋆⋆⋆
Mr. Tuffin, the warden-cum-gratuitous-counsellor, welcomed all the male Comets to

their floor — the topmost floor of the Boys Hostel. He was a fat fellow, who by the
looks of it, did not care about anything but the influx of his green cabbage12. He was
picking his nose with the blunt end of a toothpick while watching advertisements on the
common TV when they arrived.
“Welcome to the comet cluster of the Genius Academy. Congratulations! You are the
chosen ones, eh. Don’t let it get to your heads. Your sessions and drills will start next
month. I’m in-charge of everything in your life other than those two things. Now, while
everyone else has food in the mess, the eight of you will be served everything at your
respective rooms. If you want to eat something particular, let me know a day before that,
and it’ll be arranged. All of your rooms have an Air Conditioner that you’ll need to pay
for yourself. The Academy will pay for it, of course, if you win your Mock Quests13. The
top-two on average in the first four mock quests will be getting Split ACs. Also, you
have attached bathrooms, so you don’t need to use the public bathrooms on the other
12
This seems a good time to talk about how money works in this instance of the tale. So
the coin denominations are 1, 2, 3, and 4 Doras (pronounced: Dorus), while tensile fabric
notes are available for 10 Doras, 15 Doras, 20 Doras, 25 Doras, and so on all the way till 95
Doras. Transactions, sale, and rent works the same way as in your instance, dear reader,
while taxes do not work the same way. But I’m getting bored even telling you about all
this, so let’s just move on.
13
As they would know next month, Genius co-ordinated quarterly mock quests to
prepare Contenders for the real G (Ayann had fun calling it the OG G). In mock quests,
they followed a similar pattern, but ran for half the time for every challenge. The results
were displayed on the same notice board outside the Theoroom. Comets who ranked
within the top three in these quests got a lot of perks, one of them being not needing to
pay for unlimited air-conditioner-kilowatt-hours.
16
floors. Keep your clothes for laundry outside the room in the basket, and you’ll get them
washed and ironed the next day at the same time. If you’re ill, call me. If you need
anything, call me. Don’t get ill. Don’t make friends, especially from this lot. All the
others would kill to beat you at the G, so be prepared. Someone will come every other
day and clean your room so you can use all your day to train. Use all your day to train.
Here’s my number . . .”
And he wrote a number on the common blackboard. For the next minute of silence,
everyone looked around the common room, Mr. Tuffin, and each other. Some with
open mouths, fewer with open minds.
“Go on, check your rooms.”, Mr. Tuffin broke it.
Kael entered room 117, with “Steketee” already on the door in italicized black all-caps
on a silver plate.
He couldn’t believe what he saw. His room was ten times better than his room back
home. It had a double bed leaning on the wall with the AC. The two tables were joined
and put next to a wardrobe. The attached bathroom was the most comfortable
bathroom he had ever had in his life. When his parents called him at night to ask how he
was settling in and whether he faced any problems, the only one he could complain was
that he was going to be real fat real soon if they served such amazing food everyday.
As the week progressed, everyone settled into what was going to be their home for the
next three years. Non-comets had to manage their own detergents, uniforms, stationery,
snacks, gear, finances, and disappointments, and Comets, the expectations. Tens of
17
thousands of other contenders whom they had never met slowly knew all the Comets by
name and face.14
⋆⋆⋆
Every academy provided their contenders the official circular for the G on joining, issued
by the Gaeadorese G Governing Body (GGGB) every third year. This was a dissertation
on every little detail about the G — the rules, the parameters, the scoring, and most
importantly, the disqualification criteria, with multiple appendices and no pictures.
Naturally, Kael had a hard time going through all the 83 pages, and thus limited himself
just to the introduction for the time being:
...
In the forty-seventh iteration of the Gaudeamus-Gaeadorus (hereafter ‘the G’) to be

organized tentatively on the twenty-fifth Sunday of the third year hence, the contestants (or
contenders) shall expect three pursuits from nine in the am to five in the pm with a
two-hour lunch break in the between. Refer to A.1 for a detailed itinerary and time
arrangements under special circumstances. Contestants must be between ages 16 and 19
at the time of the G, and registrations will be open three months before the day of the G.
Refer to A.2 for eligibility criteria and registration details.
...
14
Nineteen of them congratulated Odell in one single day when he won the first mock
quest, who replied to each with an “Okay.” or a “Thanks.”
18
The three compulsory pursuits (or challenges) are:
1. Popsicle Pointer: The contestant shall be provided with a plastic-insulated 70-litre

box with 90 popsicle ice-creams frozen at minus ten, arranged in stacks of tens, with
alternating stick directions to maximize packaging efficiency. Refer to B.1 for
details of the box and the packaging structure.
At a distance of seven metres from the contestant, eight Pandas shall hide behind
shrubs of a similar size. The Pandas are trained to move swiftly, and at regular
intervals of ten seconds, to show themselves and to open their mouths for two seconds.
If a popsicle is thrown at their mouths, they shall grab and munch and swallow it
for the next ten seconds, and repeat. The contestant shall be given a duration of three
minutes to throw the popsicles toward the Pandas with the aim of getting the popsicle
into their mouths. The contestant is only allowed to touch the popsicle’s stick and
throw, not lob or kick the stick, which is edible for the Pandas. Injuring the Pandas
incurs severe penalties. Refer to B.2 for the scoring and penalty rules.
During the three minutes, the following conditions of the environment shall change:
a. Wind direction and speed
b. Temperature
c. Pandas’ movements
d. Vapor Pressure
The contestant shall take these changes into account before making the throw. Refer
to B.3 for a detailed description of these parameters and the changes.
...
2. Coastal Chase: The contestant shall be provided an Ostrich to ride. Any activity
involving the Ostrich, other than riding, results in strict and immediate
disqualification from this and all future iterations of the G. The Ostriches are
19
sorted on strength and distributed amongst the contestants with strengths

proportional to the weights of the contestants, in order to ensure that all contestants
can move with the same acceleration in a fair manner. The contestants need to cross
a tortuous, convoluted 8-mile pathway and reach the finish line as quickly as
possible. They are not allowed to touch the Ostrich’s neck or head, nor to interfere
with another contestant to gain advantage.
The bends in the pathway, also referred to as the ‘coast’, are provided in C.1, in
3000 lines of the following format:
<1.7, -030.6, +10.9> : After a distance of 1.7 meters, the coast has a bearing
of 30.6°to the left, and an elevation angle of 10.9° relative to the current
elevation.
The coast can be expected to follow this pathway fairly well. However, there would be
some inconsistencies at certain bends, and the contestant shall make arrangements
to deal with them as and when they appear. If for some reason, at any point on the
coast, riding the Ostrich seems unfeasible, the contestant is allowed to finish the rest
of the coast themselves. The time of reaching the finish line, rounded to the
millisecond, shall be used to score the contestant, as per C.2.
Female contestants shall be provided with Horses instead of Ostriches.15
...
3. Mango Merchant: The contestant shall be placed on a field with 95 trees spread
around, with no three trees on a straight line, and a bag-basket to carry behind their
backs with 95 ripe Tommy Atkins Mangoes. The contestant is given a map of the
15
Kael was pretty irritated at this “unfairness” and scrawled a “Refer to C.3 for a guide on
How To Check if You’re Female.” on his copy.
20
field with 95 dots marking the positions of the trees to scale. On every tree is a
Monkey who will take the Mango from the contestant when they shall reach the tree.
The contestant is to pick a starting tree, and follow a path to cover all the trees
exactly once, giving away one Mango at each, and to return back to the starting tree.
They are allowed a maximum of 120 minutes, and they are allowed to go back to
the starting point and begin again with 95 new Mangoes as many times as they
wish.
The contestant shall score based on the distance they traverse. Lesser distance
corresponds to a higher score. For a detailed description of the map and the scoring,
refer to D.1. Female contenders shall get timed based on D.2.
...
The scores of all the three pursuits shall be added to get the final scores of the contestant. In
any discrepancy, the decision of the GGGB shall be definitive.
...
Kael was lying on his bed, reading through the circular, and looking around at nothing
in particular, staring hollowly at the walls. He was blank on his bed, just like the dull
sea-blue walls around it. The walls had been blank for the last ten years. He had put the
circular on his bedside when his phone rang. He picked it up after waiting for around
ten seconds.
“Hi, Mom!”
.
“Why do you always worry so much? I'm great.”
21
.
“You know what, it’s not a hostel. It’s a hotel. Without the ‘S’.”
.
“Yes, I will.”
.
“Promise.”
.
“Yes.”
.
“Not sure.”
.
“Yes.”
.
“No.”
.
“No.”
.
“Yes, it is.”
.
“Bye bye.”
⋆⋆⋆
22
Chapter 3
Kael and Ayann (Ayann Meredith) had become friends in a couple of weeks. As much
friends as it was possible to be here, which wasn’t too much because deep down,
everyone was really an enemy. Ayann was very different from Kael — he was very
aggressive and passionate about everything. Also, he had a very sleek beard. His
preference of dankness and inappropriateness in jokes was probably the only think that
resonated with Kael — and that’s how they had become friends in the first place.
On one of the cooler evenings, they finished supper and went out for a quick stroll, after
which they were to go back to their post-supper drill. The light breeze pacifying after a
hot day with three sessions and two drills. They took a left from the boys’ hostel to a
narrow road between the Popsicle arena and the common mess. They walked towards
the jungle, under alternating streetlights and magnolias that had bloomed and shed
abundantly until a month ago, but now looked a little dried-out and filtered light almost
as if it were a bad habit.
From the girls’ hostel, across them bicycled a girl in a black turtleneck, who had an
earphone bud in the right ear — and the other bud on the same ear, magnetically
attached butt-to-butt with that first bud’s butt. On the way she dropped something but
didn’t notice. Ayann went near it and looked down at an eighty-five Doras fabric
currency note. By the time Kael and Ayann figured out that she was going to the
shopping complex, she was already two hundred metres ahead of them.
“What do you think? Can we catch her if we run?” asked Kael.
“Only one way to know.”, replied Ayann.
23
They broke into a long run, yelling on top of their voices, things like “Heeeey” and
“Black Sweater”. After what seemed like a mile’s run, she heard them and stopped the
bicycle to look behind her.
“You — opp’edd’ — itt.”, Ayann tried to say in an extremely drained voice,

simultaneously pointing to the spot where it happened a mile away. She looked at the
note, checked her back-pocket, and took it.
“Thank you so much. The shop will close in ten minutes, and I really needed to buy a
few things today. Oh, I’m Kiana, by the way. Kiana Shannon.” she said, shaking Kael’s
and Ayann’s hands.
They replied that they were Kael and Ayann. She thanked them again, and left off
towards the shopping complex. They stood still and looked at her for a while, and then
looked at each other, and finally went back to their own rooms. Ayann whispered to
himself, as if persuasively, “I liked her eyes.”
⋆⋆⋆
A non-Sunday day of a contender at Genius has one session and two-to-four drills; and
Sundays are off. Mock quests happen at the last Sunday of each month. While
contenders from other clusters team up in groups for two drills a day, the Comets each
get their own three-four drills with hands-on guidance. Every sluster has its own set of
Masters, who take the sessions and design the drills. While the drills’ schedule keeps on
changing every month, the sessions for the Comets are always the same: Popsicle on
Mondays and Thursdays, Merchant on Tuesdays and Fridays, and Chase on the rest.
24
Sylas Hartman, Master for Coastal Chase entered the Theoroom lecture hall. He was a
clean-shaved, bespectacled man in his forties whose face always displayed some emotion
or the other. For some reason, he always seemed to try to neutralize the mood of the
room. If someone was feeling down, he would try to motivate them, and if they were
happy, he would show them “the reality”.
“Chase”, Sylas began the session, “is not won by the best riders, but by those with the
best memory and recall. Fix this well and good in your brains. You’re all Comets, not the
trash that fills the streets outside. You are expected to commit the entire coast to your
memory in a month’s time. But we’ll work on that together, don’t worry.”
“I’ve been observing how your riding drills have been going on.”, he continued.
For the first couple of months, everyone was to learn how to ride an Ostrich. Except
Kiana and Marjo, of course, who had to work with their Horses. Marjo had already
named her horse ‘Sugar’.
“Alek and Odell, you were near-perfect from the beginning, presumably because you’ve
been riding Ostriches back home at your islands. I’ve marked a few corrections here and
there for you to work on. For everyone else, don’t worry if you weren’t even able to get
on your Ostrich because you didn’t have a head start. It’s only a matter of months before
all of you will be excellent riders. Almost everyone knows how to ride perfectly.
Remember, the quest is not about riding. But it’s still crucial to practice all the riding
maneuvers everyday.”
“Mayur, Kael, and Ayann, you have been improving at a good pace. Although, Ayann,
the trainer mentioned that you don’t give enough respect to your Ostrich. Mind you,
it’s going to bite you in the back, quite literally, so fix that. Edward and Jacody, you were
completely new to riding, or even quests, for that matter. Don’t worry, just keep on
25
working hard, as you have been, Jacody. Edward, you need to pull up. Don’t forget why
you have been chosen in the Comet Cluster.”
“Next month, we’ll start with learning about the coast, and how to remember it well.
Unless you have an eidetic memory, it’s not an easy task to memorize and recall the
entire coast at once, and thus we’ll first learn frequent patterns that arise in them —
patterns with three, four, five, six, or seven bends.”
⋆⋆⋆
At the end of the Session, Mayur Ramaswamy told Alek, Ayann and Kael that he had
heard somewhere that Finley-James Saunders, their Master for Mango Merchant, had
been divorced twice. They all walked out of the Theoroom entrance, crossing hundreds
of contenders walking in.
⋆⋆⋆
26
Chapter 4
He didn’t know it then, but years later 5800869 was to look back and make a glowing
brag sheet of all of his tomfoolery and shenanigans. The biggest point on it was going to
be being part of an elite list of non-Comet contenders of Genius Academy who had
single-handedly forced an amendment to the academy’s code-of-conduct rulebook. He
changed the following rule:
C.5.(d). While it is recommended that Comets not be disturbed, non-Comet friends can
go to meet them for a maximum time of thirty minutes at their hostel floors and in
between their Theoroom sessions with prior permission of the floor-in-charge, or warden,
which needs to be submitted16 a day before stating their enrollment number and reason
clearly.
to this more environment-friendly one:
C.5.(d). Non-Comets are strictly not allowed on the Comet floor and Theoroom halls.
Violators will be disenrolled without a warning.
He did so by pulling the most elaborate, awe-inspiring, bust-bursting, tap-leaking prank

in the history of the Genius Academy.
Flashback: six years ago in a smelly alley in a public school in island #14, 5800869 was
tinkling peacefully on the rightmost one in an array of eight infrared flushmatic urinals.
The other seven were free. The urinals’ entrance was to the right, and so 5800869
16
Unfortunately these records were not cross-checked, and 5800869 was not a valid
enrollment number. The actual number was never known, but the staff caught the rascal
(sic) and kicked him out, thanks to CCTV cameras.
27
picked the closest one. Natural. But when he was like halfway done, his classmate
Eddie17 came from the right, went all the way in front of the leftmost one — as any
decent male should, thought 5800869 — but then he turned around, came back to the
right, stepped forward, unzipped and began tinkling right next to 580086918. Right next
to him, when there were six other unoccupied and equally less inviting urinals. 5800869
waited for Eddie to tinkle it all and leave, and then mimicked the
left-and-then-back-right walk to try and figure out why someone would do such a thing.
Near the leftmost urinal, on the wall, he saw two lizards very close to each other. Over
the next few months he observed that Eddie was horridly afraid of things like lizards,
bees, and stray animals. For no reason in particular, he also found out that Eddie washed
his hands with drinking water: End of flashback.
As the only friend of Eddie from island #14, 5800869 came to Genius with him. He
knew he was never going to be a Comet, but came to Eddie’s room whenever he could,
and never missed a chance to have some fun while he was there.
It was six in the morning, and Eddie had turned off his alarm on his phone which was
on the floor besides his bed. He woke up, did his morning routine, ate his breakfast, and
prepared his bag for the Theoroom — as in, packing a water bottle and the three
notebooks. All the three challenges have both Theoroom sessions and practice drills,
and Eddie made one notebook each for the sessions. To save time, he used a pen as a
bookmark in each notebook. So he would clip the pen’s cap on the top of the page.
Whenever he had to make notes, he just opened the notebook from the pen and started
writing.
17
Eddie and 5800869 were childhood friends; they went to the same public school and
played together for a while. 5800869 used to tease him a lot and Eddie hated him for that,
but when you spend a lot of real, physical time together, everything else seems fake.
18
This was even more annoying for 5800869 because he was very short, and Eddie was
around a foot taller than him. Although Eddie never looked, it still felt pretty creepy.
28
It was fifteen-to-eight when he left his hostel and went to the parking area to get his
bicycle19. He unlocked it, and put on his helmet20. Some of his naturally curly black hair
frizzed out from the back of his helmet like noodles from a full mouth. Just when he
was getting on his bicycle and starting pedalling, he saw 5800869 cycle towards him. He
was on a pink bicycle, which he had presumably borrowed from his girlfriend.
He saw Eddie, circled right and started cycling parallel to him, on his left. From on the
cycle, he gave Eddie a side-hug which was enough to frighten him and make him lose
balance, more so because of 5800869 being around a foot shorter than Eddie. He
quickly pulled back, let Eddie balance himself, said “Okbye”, and went ahead with great
speed.
Eddie hated him for it, but he was now well accustomed to 5800869’s irritating whims.
He went ahead at his usual pace. But strangely, people started looking at him in wonder.
Some were plain staring, some peering, some pointing, and a few of them were laughing.
He felt uncomfortable, and increased his pedalling rate to reach the Theoroom faster.
After halfway, it was a crowded street — with all sessions and drills beginning at eight —
and increasing the pace didn’t help the cause — instead, every single person in the
half-a-mile-long crowd started pointing and staring at him. He somehow convinced
himself that this was because he was a Comet, and he might even need to get used to all
the attention. He force-closed his eyes, breathed fast to match his quick-thumped
heartbeats, and mustered the courage to go on till Theoroom's bicycle parking and stop.
19
Because the girls’ hostel is at the west end of the campus, more than a mile from the
Theoroom and the shopping complex, it is common for girls to buy their own bicycles.
Boys, however, usually reach everywhere walking. Eddie is the only male Comet who
owns a bicycle.
20
Umm, nobody else did that. No boys, no girls. Mr. Tuffin did have a helmet, but then he
also had a motor-scooter.
29
As soon as he halted, something hit his right elbow. Something soft. It was a piece of
cloth.
Eddie started yelling. He tried to shake it off him. It didn’t work.
He calmed down a bit. It took him a while to register what had happened, but basically
next to where he buckled the right strap of his helmet, on the Y of the strap was clasped
the end of a bra with two hooks hooked onto the strap. A thousand people had been
staring at him cycling at full speed, dangling a bra on his right ear.
A seam-less, wire-free, lace-trimmed, cotton bra. A paragliding, unfurling, buoyant bra.

A fortunate bra, even if just for a little while.
He had no idea what to do. He unhooked it with force, dropped the bra on the concrete
ground, and ran and sat on his seat inside the Theoroom — his heart lubbing and
dubbing harder than it ever had, and him praying to God — all in one breath. He was
going to murder 5800869 the next time he saw him.
It took him more than half of the session (it was a Popsicle Session) to get back to 80
beats per minute. He could not focus on the lecture, and could feel everyone else
looking at him every now and then, amusing themselves. He knew he wouldn't ever have
the guts or the smarts to pull revenge pranks back on 5800869, but he closed his fist and
resolved to slap him as hard as he could the next time he saw him. He had had fun with
Eddie a number of times, but this was unlike anything that he’d ever done.
5800869, however, didn’t subscribe to cross-the-line-and-pay-the-fine. He couldn’t miss

the precious horror on Eddie’s face, and thus was cycling behind him at a safe distance
all the while. When they had reached the parking and after Eddie had thrown the bra
down with force, 5800869 picked it up and stuffed it into his pocket. While Eddie was
30
in the Popsicle session, 5800869 had filled in the formalities to enter the Theoroom and
meet his friend in the break before they would resume with the Merchant Session.
It took just about two seconds for every contender to get started with their post-bell-ring
routine.
Eddie drank water from his water-bottle.

Kael finished his notes.
Matt color-coded his.
Alek exited with the master to discuss more complicated maneuvers.
Mayur Ramaswamy exited with Alek and the master for the fear of missing out.
Odell scratched his inner thigh. Lightly at first and emphatically when nobody was
looking.
The two girls — Marjo Wuollet and Kiana Shannon — went out for one of them to
take a pee.
Ayann left to casually check out the other one — it didn’t matter which.
Jacody did nothing, from the looks of it.
Eddie, after drinking two cups and wiping his lips on his hankey, looked out of the door
at 5800869 talking to the floor-in-charge. Eddie slowly went to the door and hid behind
the half-open door. Facing the inside of the room, prepared to spin into an encounter at
the slightest signal. As soon as 5800869 would enter the room, Eddie would spin and
smack him tight in the face. He saw 5800869 coming towards the room, and he heard
footsteps. He kept his hand taut. He adjusted for their height difference. He prepared
himself mentally for the slap. He waited.
And WHAM.
And BOOM.
And oh my god ouch.
31
Hell broke loose in just a few seconds. While nobody is certain what exactly transpired,
here’s what Mayur Ramaswamy told everyone later:
1. Eddie was hiding behind the door, about to hit 5800869.

2. 5800869, just about to enter, saw Eddie’s shadow, and didn’t enter.
3. 5800869 stepped back, and made way for Marjo and Kiana to enter, who had
finished their peeing etc.
4. And WHAM.
5. Instead of 5800869’s face, Eddie hit Marjo on the chest21. To be precise, on the
right one. There must have been finger marks across. Eddie was hitting someone
for the first time, so he did not know how much power and speed was good
enough, and so he overdid it a bit.
6. Marjo yelled in pain, and for the next couple of seconds everyone stopped in total
silence and tried to process it all.
7. Eddie started frantically saying sorry, multiple times in a single breath, holding his
ears and on his knees.
8. 5800869 was seen lying supine with his arms and legs up, deliriously laughing
and gasping for breath in between. He looked like an upside-down bug trying
and failing to stand back up.
9. Marjo was shocked beyond imagination. With Eddie apologizing profusely and
5800869 laughing hysterically and everyone else consuming it all with wide open
eyes to tell their future friends, she was too stunned to react.
10.And BOOM.
11.Kiana stepped forward, slapped Eddie hard four times — right left right left —
and gripped his elbow and pulled him to the ground.
12.Eddie didn’t stop her. He kept on saying sorry. She started kicking him as well.
13.And oh my god ouch.
21
Marjo was almost as tall as Eddie, thus much taller than 5800869, and so when his
hand came down to where he expected to find 5800869’s right cheek, he found
something else.
32
14.Marjo joined her and kicked Eddie multiple times, once by mistake in the crotch.
15.The floor-in-charge heard all the commotion, entered the room, saw 5800869
still laughing, and yelled at him to get lost.
16.Eddie cried… he shedded lots of tears. He found himself without a hankey for the
first time in his life.
17.5800869 ran out of the room, out of the Theoroom building, to his hostel room.
18.Fin-J entered the room and started the session. But nobody — not even Alek —
could focus on the session that day.
Mayur Ramaswamy didn’t report this part, but while hitting Eddie, the girls also threw
a bunch of verbal bazookas toward him, starting with “You - {slap} - jerk - {slap}”, and
ending with “I-curse - {kick} - you-that-you’ll-become-a-girl - {kick} -
in-you-next-life-and-have - {kick} - irregular-periods - {kick}”.
It was after all the turbulence and confusion had subsided — after 5800869 had dashed
out — after the Merchant Master had asked them all to settle down — when Eddie
opened his Mango Merchant session notebook at the opening, and in the bookmarking
slot where his pen should have been, he found a fake rubber lizard.
⋆⋆⋆
It took Eddie many years to fully realize why 5800869 — whom Eddie had hitherto
considered a good friend — had done something like that. To feel and understand what
he was going through that made him do this. To succumb to and to fight against that
fiend called jealousy. To become mature enough to sense that sometimes when everyone
around you criticises you and compares you with others, you tend to hide. You tend to
run away. Especially if you’re young or weak. You run towards wherever you can run
fastest to. Because when you’re running away, you don’t care what direction you take.
You just run. And you don’t let anyone dare tell you that running away was a decision.
33
Especially if you were young or weak. You are desperate to convince everyone including
yourself that there was no choice but to run. And 5800869 had done the same. He ran.
Because one of the biggest decisions in life is whether you’ll allow others to take your
decisions for you. But this decision itself — more often than not — others take for you.
⋆⋆⋆
34
Chapter 5
Spoiler alert: Alek (Alex van der Werff, top on the leaderboard for year one, and the only
one Odell ever feared) is going to live ninety-three long years and meet a lot of people
along the way. He’s going to retire early at sixty and spend time playing with and taking
care of his grandchildren. If you were to wake up this very-old Alek and ask him what
the biggest regret of his life was, he would answer even before you finish the question —
sharing that canoe with Mayur Ramaswamy for saving a mere ten Doras.
Mayur Ramaswamy was 5’9’’, and had the worst possible distribution of body fat on a
Hominid22. It looked like he had one huge buttock and two tiny chins. He had three
bony protrusions on each knee, with valleys in between any pair. His neck was larger
than the head it supported in all three dimensions. His ungroomed hair was short with
one slightly longer curl, and yet sustained large-sized dandruff. He was a XXL. He had a
noticeably uneven, out-toed gait and spectacles that trusted his nose more than
recommended to make up for his smaller-than-usual ears. His nose was like an
upside-down bellflower. Instead of a complexion, he had multiple — spread across in
variegated patches. Dark patches with little white spots, all over his face and neck and
hands.
Square inches of chestnut and espresso.
It wasn’t his shabbiness, though, that Alek (and everyone else) found the most irksome.
Ramaswamy was a serious gossipmonger. He might’ve slacked off on some drills here
and there — but with this gossip shit, he meant business. Whenever the Theoroom
22
a primate of a family (Hominidae) which includes humans and their fossil ancestors
and also (in recent schemes) at least some of the great apes.
35
notice board displayed the results of the regulars, he would remember it (the top ten)
forward and backward. Whenever a Comet (male) was found so much as walking with a
girl, he would put his bellflower nose so deep into it that in most cases it creeped out
everyone involved and ended the whole affair before it could even begin.
And so, at the end of that half-hour canoe trip, Mayur Ramaswamy knew a lot of
assorted facts about Alek. That Alek’s name was Alex23. That he was from island #5.
That he had been winning junior quests for a couple of years now. That he already knew
how to ride an Ostrich24. That when he aimed for the first place in the G, he actually
meant it25. That he had been invited by one of the academy’s Masters to become a
Comet, and that his family was given green cabbage with black spots to convince him to
not change his mind.
That he was unfit and had never exercised — but would most definitely start focusing
on his health after the G. That he bathed once a week — or when his stench stifled his
own breathing — whichever later. That while he had lots of experience with every
category out there, his favorite section of the Sex Circus26 was MILF, because they “knew
their shit”.
That he wouldn’t mind if his room was beside Ramaswamy’s. That is, if Ramaswamy
became a Comet too.
23
Because of an unfortunate typo, Alex’s name got printed “Alek” on his door and his
results. Hence, everyone called him Alek.
24
A fact that Mayur Ramaswamy mentioned to Kael, Kiana and Eddie on several
occasions to vindicate Alek’s brilliance on the notice boards for the starting months.
25
A lot of contenders aimed for the first place, but most of them knew deep down that
they weren’t good enough. The mock quests help enhance their awareness on this front.
26
more on Circuses later
36
Also, at the end of that half-hour canoe trip, Alek “Alek” van der Werff knew a lot of
assorted facts about a number of random people. Throughout the three years at the
academy that Ramaswamy was with Alek, he ensured that Alek was never out of
assorted facts. Neither was any other Comet.
Years after Alek had avowed to never meet Mayur Ramaswamy in

whatever-was-left-of-his-life ever again, he found Ramaswamy rubbernecking his wife’s
only sister at a Circus they never knew they’d be attending together.
A Circus they never knew they’d be attending.
Together.
⋆⋆⋆
Marvin Connolly (the popsicle master) had a lot of moles. His upper body — barring a
handsome face with a hard, black, and neatly-trimmed beard, was covered with more
than thirty of them. Moles. He was the strictest and the sanest of all the Comets’
Masters, and Popsicle Pointer sessions were thus both feared and revered equally by the
Comets. He had a reputation of swearing and beating comets who lied or did not finish
their drills and/or made excuses and were duplicitous about their training in any way,
but nothing like that had happened so far with this batch. He made a point to reach
Theoroom fifteen minutes before the session started for doubts and discussions. Kael
saw him standing there with Marjo, who had tears in her eyes. She stood in front of but
six feet away from Marvin.
“I haven’t finished my last post-drill training. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure I finish everything
by tonight and show it to you.”, she said, little sobs hiding in the empty space under her
chin.
37
“Why?”, asked Marvin. His gaze felt as if he were looking her dead in the eyes, but not
thinking about her at all. Unconcerned with her existence, and concentrated on her
exposure.
“I had to spend yesterday’s evening in the Mock Quests Office, trying to fix the scores of
the last quest. They had erroneously given me three points lesser.”, she replied. The sobs
that were hidden stayed so. This seemed a good enough reason to her, and hopefully she
won’t be the first person whom Marvin pulled by the hair and threw on the ground
head-first.
Marvin stayed silent and continued the unconcerned yet concentrated gaze. After a
while, he asked her, “Did your parents scold you for those three points you lost for no
mistake of yours?”
“No.”, she said.
“Did they talk about it in a way that made you feel that they were unhappy with those
three points?”
“No.”
“Did I, or any other Master, express fretfulness over those three points like you did?”
“No.”
“Then how dare you prioritize these worthless three points over such an important drill,
one that might help you get more points on the actual G two years later?”, he finished.
He didn’t wait for a reply — by the time when the sobs were receding into maturity, he
had already entered the room and started the day’s session.
38
Marjo felt numb. Under all the resentment and excuses, somewhere deep down, she
knew that Marvin was right — that the small medal she had hoped to get after those
three points27, and the multi-setting waterfall showerhead that she fantasized she’d get
with it, were things that she shouldn’t have cared about. That she was trying to do better
in the short term, and as a result, missing the bigger picture. That she’d better pull
herself together.
Because all this while, everyone else had been fidgeting and juggling plastic popsicles for
the next phase of their drills - the game of Troupes.
27
which she didn’t even get, because Ayann had also gone to the office and gotten a
one-point increment (and he had managed to finish his drills too).
39
Chapter 6
New Year’s day is a holiday in all of Gaeadore, and traditionally all Comets visit the local
market of island#3 with their masters. The Comets, like all the other contenders, are not
allowed to take a week off around New Year and go home, and this outing thus serves as
a much needed break.
At dawn, the ten Comets, with Sylas, Finley-James, and Mr. Tuffin reached the bus
parked alongside the Jungle boundary across the mess, and while they all waited for
Marvin, who — as Sylas had told everyone — had had a bad night and had overslept.
Mr. Tuffin told everyone to behave themselves, and not do anything mentioned in a
long list he recited — and seemingly revised — every year. Once he was done, the bus
driver played a vintage old-school-romance song, and everyone started chatting. When
working hard is what you do all day, simple things like talking without a timer turn
novel.
Eddie sat with Jacody, and asked him why he wore a t-shirt with a couple of small holes
and found out that Jacody’s family was very poor and had to make a lot of sacrifices to
send him here.
Odell sat with Ayann, and told him about how much GRR Martin likes killing off
characters, and that the TV Show has more sex than the books.
Marjo had called someone, and besides her, Kiana had earphones on and eyes closed; her
head going left left right right on the tune unawares.
Kael sat alone, idly looking out of the window. He slided down on the seat, folded his
legs up with knees near his chest, and pushed them against the seat in front so as to fix
himself in place, curl foetally, and drift to sleep when the bus would start.
40
Alek was watching something on his phone, and Mayur Ramaswamy sat diagonally
behind him, as well as in direct line-of-sight with the gap between the Odell-Ayann pair
and the Marjo-Kiana pair, so as to not miss any potential dirty laundry, and to stay close
enough to Alek so as to initiate conversation if required, and yet far enough to avoid
each other’s yecchy odour.
Marvin entered the bus, sat with Sylas on the front seat, and Mr. Tuffin sat in the
conductor’s compartment. The driver started the bus, and they started off toward their
first stop: the Genius Poultry Farm.
⋆⋆⋆
The Genius Poultry Farm, owned by the same person (family) who owns the Genius
Academy28, did not raise chicken for the eggs. Started around fifteen years ago — when
the Genius Academy was a small building with just two Clusters of twenty contenders
each — the poultry farm was now the largest farm in island #3.
Mr. Tuffin’s younger cousin, who worked at the farm, gave them a tour. He was Mr.
Tuffin too.
“We sell the five thousand chicks everyday.”, he started explaining. “They go to the
islands the #3, the #12, the #11, and the #23.”
28
The same person (family) also owned the Genius Circus and several Genius Liquor
Stores. They started a new business as soon as they had enough black cabbage.
41
He said, pointing to an array of huge multi-storied cages, “This is the hen house where
the female hen is. We purchase the very good quality eggs and raise the hens that gives
the good quality chicks. For the twenty female hens we keep the one male hen.29”
Ayann whispered to Alek and Mayur Ramaswamy, “lucky bastard”.
“We take the brown eggs and put them in the artificial light. In the three weeks the small
chicks come out of the eggs. We pack them and sell them to the orders we get. We get the
orders for the five thousand small chicks everyday. We sell the one small chick for the
three Doras. We keep the premium quality for the high price.”
He pointed to a special crate kept carefully at the top in a separate room. “This is the
premium quality. We sell them to the rich peoples for the one hundreds Doras.”
Mr. the Tuffin had a conspicuously proud face when he showed them the air-heated,
cross-ventilated room where the “premium” baby chicks were kept. He went on
describing the entire working pipeline of the farm, and almost everyone got bored after
the first few minutes. With all the smell and noise, everybody was happy to get back on
the bus, off to their second stop: the Backyard Resort.
⋆⋆⋆
The Backyard Resort was a half-hour detour from the main road to the city. They
reached around 11 am and had about two hours before lunch. They went to the
ground, and Mr. Tuffin brought the sports kit out of the bus. The boys, except Kael,
and the Masters, except Finley-James, and Mr. Tuffin, split into teams for a 5v5 game of
29
So quick fact check: there's no such thing as a “male hen”; female chickens which lay
eggs are called hens, but Mr. the Tuffin didn’t go to school after age eight.
42
futsal30. Kael didn’t like it, and joined Marjo and Kiana who went to the Volleyball net
to play Badminton. Marvin was pretty good at futsal, and took the team to an unassisted
4-1. Kiana was the under-fourteen girls badminton champion at her island and tired out
both Marjo and Kael. Had it been a badminton-heighted net, they’d’ve had no chance at
all against her.
At half-time, Mr. Tuffin arranged for room-temperature lemonade without ice, and
after the game, enervated, they all lounged indoors waiting for lunch. It was not a very
adroit group when it came to sports, and except Kiana and Marvin, everyone else just
gave up at some point. Mayur Ramaswamy, Ayann, and Alek were doused in sweat, and
Odell was not — primarily because he didn’t even run. His game was simple: just walk
towards the ball. If the ball gets to you, lob it hard and high. That happened exactly once
in forty minutes.
Lunch wasn’t exactly delectable, but they all filled themselves fully, and returned to the
bus to go to their third and final stop before getting back to the Academy: the Fairwell
Circus.
⋆⋆⋆
30
Fact check #2: they were erringly calling it “Futsal”, which is actually played on a
smaller and a harder court pitch compared to football. A futsal ball is smaller than a
football, and has less bounce.
43
Circuses31 are an indispensable part of Gaeadore’s culture, economy, and fate. It is the
primary pastime for the archetypal Gaeadorese family.
The husband would come home at six in the evening, tired and irascible due to the work
and his boss, and would go to the Circus of his choice to relax. The wife would be weary
either after her job, or household chores, or some other occupation by the side, and
would hope that the husband was in a good enough mood to take her as well. Or if the
husband were late at work, the wife would take the children to a circus. The elder child
would enjoy all the animals and performances of experts, and the younger child would
be ever so curious, just taking it all in with wonder. The youngest child, if any, would be
fast asleep, at home if between three and five of age, and at the circus if under three. The
grandparents had nothing to do all day but to wait all day for the next circus.
There are various kinds of Circuses hosted to accommodate everyone. There’s the
Classic one that almost everyone went to32, and then there’s the Baby Circus for kids less
than three, the Sex Circus33 for the bawdy ones, the Music Circus for, obviously, music,
and a couple more depending on which Circus you go to. Fairwell has a special one
every week for the blind, but a fair number of sighted people attend it too.
The advent of technology in Gaeadore had changed the dynamics of Circuses in a lot of
ways. People could now watch a circus from their homes, either snugly in bed from a
TV, or on a phone, while working parallely. Though the digital thing was nowhere near
as good as the original — with the 3D view, the smell, the wonder, the audience, the
31
There are a number of popular Circuses in #3, most of which have chains in other
islands as well. Some of them are the Fairwell, Angelshock, Airshadow, Nightlight, and
Genius circuses. All of them have their own specialties and fanbases. There’s Moonscar
as well but it doesn’t get as much respect around here.
32
This is what the Comets had come to watch, and most people watched on routine
33
The closest thing to the Sex Circus in your instance is video porn, but that’d be like
comparing a boiled banana to a tropical fruit salad with honey-lime dressing.
44
friends and family with whom you shared it, and so on — it was still a blessing on lazy
days.
Contenders participating in the G avoided going to most circuses to focus on their

training. The Comets cut it out totally from their lives. Hence, when the bus stopped in
front of the Fairwell Circus and they booked fourteen tickets and six popcorn tubs,
almost everyone was looking forward to it.
⋆⋆⋆
The Fairwell Circus usually had a fairly consistent script, with the jokes, tricks, animals,
mini-arcs, and looks changing after every few performances. It started with an empty
dark stage with total silence, when slowly the intensity of light increased, and stepped
forward the Skipper of the Circus.
The skipper’s looks were, as they anticipated, striking and vivid. Anyone could tell that
he was rich, even through his costume and make-up. All those things can hide the rich,
but not the filthy rich.
He was a fairly tall man with a long, ceremonious deep-blue coat. His cobalt eyes,
however, harbored untold secrets; their twinkle not mirroring the smile etched upon his
lips. His coat, adorned with a profusion of hues, sparkles, and glitter, was a testament to
his flamboyant disguise. Atop his head perched a hat of whimsy and eccentricity, an
artistic companion to his resplendent attire. He had soft, brown hair cut that appeared
to have been cut military. He had small eyes with perfectly curved eyebrows. These eyes,
when they squinted, transformed into crescents of ersatz34 happiness, hiding the enigma
that lay within. He wore a spooky, papery, purple scarf which was inconspicuous
because he fit it inside his gleaming emerald collar. It appeared as though he felt really
34
a fake and artificial imitation
45
proud cradling the button-seams of his coat with both hands, slightly pulling on it to
reveal a peculiarly riveting maroon inner-coat made entirely of sequins and buttons. The
coat was thickly structured — with fat shoulder-pads and eight-inch stiff multicolor
cufflinks. Inside all of it was a plain white shirt to neutralize the glamor. On the sleeves
was a golden of an octopus with inward fractal-curls. His silk-satin coat bore the marks
of time, creases as if etched into its very fabric, each fold a story that lingered within.
There were artificial gemstones on his cufflinks and collar. He had a consummate,
perfected smile that showed all teeth and no dimples. He had a clean-shaved neat face
with a light foundation near the jawline, with the cheeks and nose a little rosy with a
facetint. His collar and scarf seemed to devour his jawline in a rhapsodical union of
confinement and liberation. Contrasting all the brilliantly animated upper-half were
navy-blue corduroy trousers. He wore sneakers with a layered sole with fake laces and
stars at the aglets. In his hands were neon-green luminescent sticks to guide both the
audience and the performers.
In his very presence, he embodied the essence of the circus — a captivating world where
the boundaries of reality and imagination bleared; where the tightrope of reality and the
trapeze of imagination intertwined; where the profound and the fantastical pirouetted
in delicate balance lest the dark sky of canvas should fall and engulf everyone in the
darkness thus dawned.
The circus was nothing short of extraordinary. From the right side of the stage entered
two monkeys on bicycles, and from the left circled two others on swiss balls. Performers
entered in three couples — the males in white shirts and green trousers and the females
in purple miniskirts with tights attached, and white tops — and set the stage to fire, not
just metaphorically. They juggled many things in many ways; from rings on fire to
bottles to each other to the audience’s minds. And then there were performers on horses
throwing stuff at bears on bulls. And then there were bears on performers throwing
stuff at bulls. A couple more monkeys, this time playing musical chairs. Then entered
dogs, who jumped over two bulls and landed on a chair. Then finally there were
46
Ostriches, running in artificial fire and dodging crackers and jumping over obstacles and
through hoops. It ended with everyone bowing and the audience standing and hooting
and clapping.
The bus journey back to the campus was weighty — not many people were talking, and
there was no music. Some of them (Kael, Eddie, Odell, Marjo) were asleep, and the
others were lolling around in the cool breeze.
Back at the Genius Poultry Farm, the premium baby chicks were being fed and watered,
to be packaged and transported to their final stop.
⋆⋆⋆
47
Chapter 7
Finley-James Saunders, well-known sobriquet ‘Fin-J’, begot a vibe of skittish silence

among the Comets every time he entered the Theoroom for their Mango Merchant
sessions. He was famous for winning the seventh place in the G during his teenage days.
Mayur Ramaswamy found out (and circulated around pretty well) that Fin-J went to
Grit-G and not Genius, and that he lived alone after being divorced twice, and that he
had an IQ of 250 plus, and that he had the power to look you right in the eyes and figure
out if you’ve finished your drills and whether you’re lying about anything, things like
that. He was never seen happy or sad, just sometimes angry.
Nobody ever doubted his intelligence — he was, in fact, considered to belong to the rare
category of individuals who are so good that they are too good for their own good.
Kael repeated it multiple times in his head, “Individuals who are so good that they are
too good for their own good.”
Fin-J had detailed notes distributed to the Comets before he took the session, so that
everyone could pay their full attention and not waste time and energy writing everything
down. Ayann felt that this was unfair on him because he wrote damn fast and otherwise
nobody other than him could possibly have written all of that down and revised it
before the Mock Quests. Odell furtively went to Fin-J’s office a day before every session
to read and prepare himself better. Mayur knew about this too.
Kael opened the notes they got that day:
48
Heuristics for Near-Optimal Tours
We have seen previously that the fundamental optimization problem in Mango Merchant
is computationally intractable. This means that it is not reasonably possible for anyone
(or a computer) to find the best possible solution in any given Mango Merchant problem.
Previous winners of the G, barring yours truly, have in fact never been able to find it; the
goal here is thus to figure out a near-optimal path (or tour) that visits all the trees and
monkeys and comes back to the starting point, traveling in total a distance acceptably
close to the least possible. And to do that as quickly as possible, because no extra time is
given for planning the tour beforehand.
Thus, it is helpful to be able to create a visualization of a possible tour and get an idea of
how good, or how “near-optimal” the tour is at a glance, or to find approximate solutions
with non-classical methods. This is exactly what heuristics are for. Once the contender
has looked at a number of heuristics, they can be confident that their tour is near-optimal,
and focus on the other aspects of the challenge, ie. throwing the mangoes to the monkey,
running so as to not let the mangoes fall out of the basket, avoiding inadvertent hurdles,
deciding on the number of attempts they wish to take, etc. Today, we will look at two
important heuristics, ie. the Nearest Neighbor and the Convex Hull, and in subsequent
sessions we shall delve into more nuanced ones, such as Christofides, Insertions, and
k-opt Tour Improvements.
A. Nearest Neighbor: This heuristic is a simple and straightforward one, and thus not
very effective against a number of tricky situations that you will face. The strategy
works this way:
1. Visit a tree at random (and give a mango to the monkey).
2. Visit the nearest tree yet unvisited (and give a mango to the monkey).
3. Repeat step 2 till you run out of mangoes.35
...
35
Mayur, who wasn’t particularly sporty, had appended a “(or breath)” after mangoes.
49
With Fin-J the sessions were always, in the words of Ayann, a “mind fucking
experience”. It felt as though for that one hour he had forced their minds to think or
compute or whatever-minds-do at 100x the usual. After the session, he described the
next few drills, what they needed to focus on, etc. Everyone desperately needed the
two-hour lunch break after the dession — more for the break than for the lunch. It took
somewhere from half an hour (for Alek) to four hours (for Jacody) to assimilate the
notes in the evening.
⋆⋆⋆
The Genius Academy was built fifteen years ago behind the Gaeadorese Central Jail
Complex and Facility for Correction (GCJCFC), Island #3. While teenage contenders
are usually acquitted on imprisonment offences, the GCJCFC3 was a source of
annoyance nonetheless. First up, it had security cameras all over the northern boundary
wall of the campus. Secondly, it led to some uncomfortable punishments (as per
rumors) for violators, which kind of made them sad even though they were never going
to do those things.
Thirdly, and most crucially, they had installed network jammers to prevent any
unauthorised communication. The GCJCFC3 jammers, however, were unfortunately
better and more powerful than needed, and cut down signals to the Genius campus as
well. This led to reduced internet speeds and complete blocking of radio signals.
Contenders were, thus, not able to video-call their families and friends back home, and
play Circus clips, especially the Sex Circus ones that they had gotten pretty addicted to.
The only person benefiting out of this whole thing was the barber at the shopping
complex, KoolSidd from the KoolSidd Unisex Saloon, who turned it into a profitable,
secret, side-business.
50
He had a computer inside a small room/enclosure inside the main salon room — a
room/enclosure at which all the shopkeepers at the shopping complex gathered for daily
afternoon teas and biscuits — and it was officially a photocopier and printer setup.
Unofficially, though, the computer had, in hard-drives indexed A to C, D to H, I to M, N

to R, S to T, U to Z, all the content one can ever want for three years’ quota of self-love
nights. The indexing was inarticulate and haphazard — not that it mattered though.
Youngsters would usually slip in a memory chip or a flash drive inside a 5036 Doras note,
and say out a single letter codeword like “T” or “M” or “3” or “4” or “A” or “S” or “B”
or “D” or “P” or “I”, etc., and follow it with either “short” or “long”, and KoolSidd
would return with a 10 Doras note with what he always said was “the best cream”37.
⋆⋆⋆
Sex Circus Clips would seem a rather theatrical oddity in the daily schedule of a (usually
male, but not necessarily) Comet — comprising fourteen hours of training and six
hours of sleep — but it had a number of purported benefits.
Consider Alek. He would wake up early, do some training, take breakfast, revise the
previous sessions’ notes, and go to the day’s sessions and drills, with only a lunch break
in between. He would spend the evenings with another set of drills and practice, and
end the day with supper. He would go to bed early in order to wake up early the next
day.
36
Seasoned customers (like Ayann, Alek, 9023793, 8207414, and many others) knew that
50 Doras was just standard guideline, and if you wanted something that “was it”, you
needed twice the cabbage.
37
And he said it like “besht”, which is ‘Best’, but with a ‘sh’ sound instead of the ‘s’ sound.
He also closed his fist and shook it and gave his neck a little side-yank to reinforce that it
indeed “was it”. Seasoned customers, though, knew otherwise of course.
51
A lifestyle such as this poses a few problems (flip the argument for females):
Firstly, there’s no time to even talk to a girl. The best way thus to assuage raging
testosterone is to masturbate, and it needs to be done quickly and effortlessly enough so
as to not interfere with preparation for the G. Sex Circus Clips solve this issue perfectly.
Secondly, a day’s hard work usually leads to a good night’s sleep, and one dozes off
within a few minutes. Add some amounts of stress, depression, and frustration to it,
though, and suddenly it becomes very difficult to sleep. A lot of time is wasted waiting
for sleep. This time can be reduced considerably by jerking yourself off to sleep. Lastly,
with so little to enjoy and be happy about in a life such as this, orgasm becomes the only
regular source of instant gratification.
Masters at Genius have been instructed by the administration to promote “checking

out” the opposite sex and “help yourselves” to avoid the time wastage of a romantic
relationship. The Comets don’t need to be told all this though — they are already smart.
⋆⋆⋆
52
Chapter 8
It was evident to Flippy the Turtle, twelve years ago, that when the then-6-year-old
Kiana Shannon was to move back to The Hut, twelve years later, the then-18-year-old
Kiana Shannon would have but one goal — to win the G. Because the best way to break
an egg is from the inside. And both Flippy and Kiana knew that if you’re born in an egg,
the best way is also the only way.
On the suburbs of island #3, the capital of Gaeadore38, was the magnificent Maponga
water-wood-wild forest. More than two thousand hectares of human-affected, tropical,
partly-protected land, Maponga was home to a number of small households — like
6-year-old Kiana’s “The Hut” — that formed a small town beside a large ditch.
Kiana’s were a poor family, but they could afford her free primary education, and two
fragmentary meals every day. She, at six, was one of the most intelligent people in her
whole town — she could talk to, understand, and even teach kids way beyond her age.
She spent many an afternoon reading just whatever she could lay her hands on, which in
the suburbs of island #3 was a surprising lot if you were keen as she.
Every morning at half past five39 Kiana took her turtle, Flippy, out for a walk. It wasn’t
technically a walk-walk, though. She washed Flippy with water so cold that it would
have given her the chills if someone were to pressure it toward her. She then kissed
38
On the Saharan Coast of Central Atlantis, Gaeadore attained independence from
Apollonia in 1950. It has prospered since, mostly due to the production and export of
sugar, palm oil, and Manganese. However, the rich kept on getting richer, and poverty
spread in the islands like an incurable, non-fatal disease.
39
Everyone in her family — her parents, her lovely grandmother, and her elder brother —
woke up early.
53
Flippy on her favorite pleural scute40 on its shell, which makes the apparently unkind
freezing-water exercise a rather benign one41. She then left The Hut under the fresh
blush of blue, towards her bike. It wasn’t technically a bicycle-bike, though.
It was a regular — but with a curious assortment of cheap-but-spirited DIY features. It

had a very low top -tube so Kiana could stand on both her feet and then push with her
weight on the right pedal. On the left side it held a small side-support wheel made
of high-density polyethylene through an L-shaped rusted-out black pipe that looked
much older than the bicycle itself. The support wheel had human hairs stuck in it and
did not rotate much. On the right was a similar L-shaped rusted-out black pipe without
the wheel.
Kiana was at that stage in learning cycling when one doesn’t really need the single
support wheel as well — but prefers to keep it on one side, just in case.
Hitched onto both the L-shaped rusted-out black pipes through thick nylon ropes was a
horizontal wooden ramp with four wheels. The scaffold-board was roughly the size of a
kids’ single bed. Kiana had found it in a garbage sale at a friend’s and had to cry a lot to
convince the folks to let her have it for free. One couldn’t tell whether she was prouder
at having thought of the idea all by herself, or more disappointed at the fact that Flippy
didn’t agree to it.
So basically, Flippy walked at around a mile an hour, and walked around an hour a day.
Thus, if it were to go for a half-hour with Kiana, it would only be natural to expect it to
need 33.5 metres of distance to walk around as per the Unitary method. Kiana created a
33.5 metres long snowflaky path (luckily, Flippy was back then a small enough turtle for
40
A large scale
41
Otherwise kissing Flippy would have made her catch Salmonella germs and get very
sick.
54
it to work) on the wooden ramp with a pink chalk. That way she could cycle on the
periphery of Maponga, and simultaneously Flippy could walk on the ramp.
The periphery of Maponga was eight miles of joy.
It started off as a small path of dried grass besides a large rock and a bunch of
Eucalypti. All of them had, at different heights, initials and dots and hearts and
arrows of unrequited fondness of a whole generation. In Autumn the path was laden
with parched leaves and twigs and made crusty sounds when Kiana deliberately stepped
on each one of them.
The path took a slow curl to the left after the dried grass ended and was met with a
half-cement-half-pebbled lane that could have become a concrete road if more people
used it, fat chance, and if they had enough funds, no chance at all. This curl was where
she got on the bicycle and started pedalling.
At the end of the curl on the right was a security booth that guarded the only opening
gate across a five-feet tall barbed iron fence. The fence circumferences all of the
periphery and helped defend against punks and wild animals. The security booth had a
half-asleep guard, and the biggest freaking dog you’d ever see. It was a Rhodesian
Ridgeback, a species well known for being able to fight lions. The Ridgeback used to
howl and scare the number two out of Kiana (sadly, in the case of Flippy, not just
figuratively), but over the past year both of them had gotten used to it42.
After the curl was a series of left and right turns; the left turn always slightly skewed
so the path could end where it started. Cycling snugly along this stretched series of left
and right turns, she found a number of things that interested her.
42
the Ridgeback, not the number two
55
There were flowers. Peach flowers, orange flowers, lavender flowers, and white
flowers. Small flowers, fluffy flowers, and thistle-like flowers. Flowers on trees,
flowers on shrubs, and flowers on small plants that nobody wanted but still existed. Dry
flowers, fragrant flowers, and cactus flowers. Huge flowers, tiny flowers, and
this-does-not-even-look-like-a-flower flowers.
There were tree trunks of like forty trees, all of them cut at a height of around 1.5 feet.
Kiana counted the rings on them one day and found out that they were more than
eighty years old43, which meant they were around the same age as her lovely
grandmother. Besides the trees were bundles of wood, and haystacks of dried grass,
and heaps of bovine dung cakes. On the opposite side were some more Eucalypti.
Kiana liked the scene, as well as the smell of it. The feeling of experiencing
something fresh yet pregnant on a calm morning is difficult to put across well enough.
There was a lamp-post that cut the half-cement-half-pebbled lane smack in the
middle. Kiana never circumvented it from the right, because of a nasty shrub that has
more thorns than she knew how to count44. She knew from experience that it was better
to take a slight left earlier than to wait and then take a sharp left seconds
before the lamp-post45.
43
Pretty sure she messed up with the counting here.
44
She gravely overestimated this number. The actual figure, however, was comfortably
beyond that
overestimation as well.
45
She would later know that this was because the centrifugal force on Flippy from the
rotating frame of reference was inversely proportional to the square of the radius of
curvature.
56
There was a small hut/house made up of (or covered on) five sides of pre-painted,
galvanized, corrugated46 steel sheets. One of those sheets on one of the four walls acted
as a door but was incessantly closed. On the top there was a small opening that was
always covered with a blue plastic cover to limit rainwater. Kiana wouldn’t have known
anyone had lived there but a couple of times she heard someone yell profanity47 in a very
coarse tone. They had seemed eerily loud — as if they had had bad ears and had to yelp
in order to hear what the other person had said.
There was a huge water-tank that was broken near the top and did not have any water.
Hanging from it was as gargantuan a beehive as there ever will be. Kiana felt that she
would like honey, but she didn’t know where it was kept in The Hut. Beside the tank
was a regular-sized metal chair frame — essentially, it was the skeleton of a chair but
without the seat. A wooden plank covered half of the space in its stead, and one of the
legs was broken. It had been at least a couple of years since anyone had even attempted
sitting on it.
There was a platform with small green shrubs (not the ones with thorns) and red bricks
to the sides, and four white steps leading up to it from the front. On one side of it were
three snake plants48 and on the other were two cacti with pink fruits. On top of the
platform was a local deity unbeknownst to her. Around the local deity were several
smaller local deities (no disrespect, just smaller in size).
There were birds. Some of them were in sight and chirped from time to time. A
46
Moulded into a series of parallel, contiguous ridges and grooves for tensile and vertical
shear strength.
47
She would never understand what it had meant, but it was primarily some words
around “mom”, “dog”, and “fart” in the local language.
48
Dracaena Trifasciata, a natively African plant with leaves that looked a bit like a snake
— you’ll know it when you see one.
57
white-faced duck that whistled. Large flamingoes, with oddly-shaped beaks. Kiana really
wanted to learn how to whistle. The regulars — the pigeons and doves. The little swifts
that kept on flying from tree to tree. The boobies, that looked funnily stupid walking
around with brown wings and yellow feet. Kiana wished she could fly.
There was a mammoth excavator near a construction site, a gate to a plant-nursery that
remained closed 24x7, electric poles and wires all along, a security vehicle which had on
it written “ARMED SURVEILLANCE” in bold-red, a couple of
nature-loving-and-free-disposed-and-unpretentious couples who came to the
periphery everyday for their morning walks, a patch with a lot of gravel that was
presumably the remains of an inchoate pipeline construction project that got revoked, a
great number of great trees with a great number of great leaves, a strong white-stone
empty above-the-ground pool which from the looks of it was used by folks a hundred
years ago to take group baths, a couple of CCTV cameras for the security guys, some
snakes, and the occasional gorilla.
⋆⋆⋆
In March, two-years-later, Kiana’s parents, her lovely grandmother and her only brother
died with RDRS-GV-849. The periphery of Maponga was built into a permanent road,
and the surroundings were cleaned up for a chain of hostel buildings for what was to
become the Genius Academy.
49
A virus-caused pandemic that had created havoc in more than half of the Gaeadorese
Islands. Her mother and elder brother could have been saved if they had access to
Oxygen and Antiviral medication. However, the rich and the powerful had hoarded huge
supplies of both of these during the pandemic, and prices had shot up, and public
hospitals were out of beds for the poor. The doctor told her that her father — who was a
heavy breather since childhood — and her lovely grandmother — who was 92 — would
have had no chance even with proper hospitalization.
58
Chapter 9
In the p.m. after lunch on a Sunday, Kael was sitting with Ayann, Alek, and Mayur
Ramaswamy in Alek’s room. They were waiting for this quarter’s mock quest’s results
to be out. They should be up on the notice board anytime now. Alek’s room had
become their customary meeting spot for idling after a taxing drill. The reason being
that in the last few months, Alek had won first position in both the previous mock
quests. Thus, he had received some nifty upgrades for his room — a split AC instead of
the window one for other Comets, a Theoroom-sized glassboard that covered a whole
wall, and the daily newspaper50. Further, Mr. Tuffin was the least likely to check on
Alek’s room for any loitering, which made it a relatively safer spot for some good quality
swearing and ranting.
“Why the fuck do girls get Horses anyway?”, complained Ayann. He was wallowing on
the floor, resting his lower-back on a bolster pillow after a week of riding ostriches and
three sets of fifty squats each. “Fucking discriminating.”
“Discriminatory.”, corrected Kael.
“Well done, f***er. Take this medal.”, replied Ayann, pointing towards his crotch.
50
Contenders at Genius — especially the Comets, were strongly urged to not read or
watch any news, because it was useless, wasted time, filled their brains with garbage,
and anyway didn’t change (in the words of Mr. Tuffin). Alek, however, had specifically
requested for the morning paper, and if you perform as well as he did in the mocks, you
can ask for pretty much anything and it will be delivered to you. Ayann used to say that
Alek should have tried asking for some hot girls and they’d’ve given him.
59
“So there’s a fucked-up story behind this.”, said Mayur Ramaswamy, continuing
Ayann’s complaint about horses.
“Girls also had ostriches initially like a decade ago, but then girls were underperforming
so feminists rallied for equality and shit, and a few girls killed themselves, and so they
had no choice but to give them Horses.”. He was sitting on a metal chair, violently
shaking it with his legs due to his severe restless-leg-syndrome.
“Girls have their brains locked up inside their knees. That too, the left knee.”, Ayann
chimed in. He was looking at the medals Alek had received and had hung up on two
nails in his room. There were several nails yet to be used-up, he noticed.
“You’ve won some nice medals,'' he said. He tried his best to hide the fact that he was
hiding the fact that he was getting very jealous. His best was enough, at least here.
“That’s nothing compared to the glorious trophy winners of the G get.”, replied Alek.
“It’s a huge goblet made of pure gold with rich engravings and sparkling diamonds. I’ll
get the biggest one.” He was massaging his right shoulder’s trapezius muscles with his
left forefingers.
“Not the only ‘biggest one’ you’ll get — if you win the G, that is.”, interrupted Mayur
Ramaswamy, with a side-glance and a half-grin toward Ayann, which according to Kael
was plain hideous. Mayur Ramaswamy was huge, so he always had only one side of his
body toward the person he was talking to and for whatever godforsaken reason, he
displayed expressions only on that side, whether it be left or right. So his half-grin, in
this case, was literally an upward contraction of the left side of his cheeks and lips. “I’ve
seen pictures of our Comet seniors on beaches with their arms around super hot
mangoes.” He gestured with his hands what the words ‘super hot’ couldn’t convey well
enough.
60
“Yeah man, boys who go out with flat girls are basically gay.”, added Ayann, helpfully,
eyeballing Alek without being aware of it. Done with the bolster pillow and his
lower-back, he was now pacing across the room, parallely to the glassboard, skimming
through the newspaper. He got back to talking with Alek, “You were anyway gonna win
the first few mocks — with you knowing how to ride already, Odell and Kiana were the
only ones who even stood a chance of getting anywhere near you. Think you gonna win
this one as well?”
“Let’s see,” replied Alek, not noticing Ayann’s jealousy at all, “Riding doesn’t help
much, though. It’s pretty easy to get. The wins are more due to the fact that I’m super
competitive. Like, since childhood. Everytime I faced a quest, I played to win.”, said
Alek scratching his scalp.
Alek had had lice for a couple of weeks now.
“Dude, you’re nowhere near as competitive as I am. If it were just about being
competitive, I’d have this glassboard”, said Ayann, pointing.
“Huh, challenge?”, said Alek. Kael couldn’t help getting amused about the fact that
both of them were getting competitive about their competitiveness.
Ayann, not one to back down, leaned in and said, "I play video games at 2.25x speed.
That's how competitive I am."
Alek's eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. "That's nothing," he countered, "I once broke
my nose while attempting the world's biggest stoppie on my bicycle. The bike flipped
around, and I hit the ground face-first. Beat that.”
Ayann grinned and said, "Okay, but I once memorized the entire telephone contacts
book just to prove I could."
61
Alek nodded approvingly, then countered, "Well, I once hiked up Mount Everest
backwards while juggling flaming torches and reciting Shakespeare's sonnets."
And so it went on for like a full twenty minutes, each of them challenging the other
with yet another display of competitiveness, each one weirder than the previous. It
finally ended with Ayann going so far that Kael and Mayur Ramaswamy had to shove
pillows in his face to stop him. He said:
“I was seven years old, standing besides a swing on the mango tree’s branch at my
grandma’s home back home in island #22. I saw two butterflies having sex — and you
might not know this but butterflies have sex the opposite way, like they don’t face each
other but face opposite ways, with their wings facing each other — and I separated
them. Couldn’t let a butterfly have sex before me, could I? I pulled them apart with their
wings. And I was seven mind you. I didn’t even know what sex was; I thought I was just
helping them because they had gotten stuck. I faintly remember the female flying away
and the male butterfly staying there, waiting, not flying away. That’s how competitive I
was, at a subconscious level, unawares, even at seven years old.”, while holding the
newspaper with him. And so when he had a pillow pressed on his face, he couldn’t see
who clutched the newspaper out of his grip.
He started reading the middlemost article on the page Ayann had had on the top. He
liked reading things aloud to people, and he almost never went verbatim. “Farmer, 37,
Commits Suicide. 13th@#5: A farmer working on a maize paddock on the outskirts of
island #5 committed suicide after three seasons of ruined crop. Reports identified the
cause of the failures to be over-fertilization, which had rendered the then verdant51
shoots weak and vulnerable, and had eventually led to pests, diseases, and stunted
growth . . . . da da da . . . Boring.”, he said, tossing the newspaper into Alek’s slightly
pinkish laundry basket.
51
Lush, green, and fresh
62
After a round of the now routined rants on how stressed and overworked they were,
they filed out of Alek’s room, and the boys’ hostel, toward the Theoroom to check the
notice board and find out how many months they had until their supply of newspaper
stopped and they no longer get to know about farmers dying due to over-fertilized
young crops.
⋆⋆⋆
63
Chapter 10
If you were to enter the dormitories of the non-Comet contenders, you would find a lot
of different types of people. You would find hundreds of thousands of teenagers, all of
them running the same race, all of them knowing at some level or the other that they’re
not gonna win. You would find them aiming for lower, because it’s still much better
than not finishing the race (you would ask yourself, “But is it?”).
You would find them doing all sorts of different things to beat the other non-Comets,
because they’re anyway not gonna be able to beat the Comets. You would find many a
hostel with the ‘s’ and many a mess without burgers. You would find an overfilled
Theoroom and an underfilled cabbage-room, on average, that is.
You would find hundreds of thousands of seven-digit numbers. Seven-digit numbers

that look pseudo-randomly generated, but are not.
Seven-digit numbers. Too much to subtract and too little to add.
You would find unlit corridors. There you would find empty liquor bottles and cigarette
butts. You would find mosquitoes. You would find an assorted collection of teenagers
with a distinguishing pattern of traits. You would find —
The Weekend Wildcats. They spend the entire week waiting for the weekend, leaving
everything (including baths) to be done then, and turn insane when it arrives. They
work so hard during the weekend that they need the rest of the week to recover. They
convince their friends to chill out with them on weekdays, spreading the cult.
64
The Motive Mongers. They swim in motivational speeches and self-help books. They
have aphorisms for every problem at their tips, and fill their rooms with quotes and
posters. They know that the best things always begin on Monday mornings before
sunrise, and that it is well worth it to wait for the perfect Monday. They know that one
shouldn’t count their Ostriches before they hatch, and that they should look forward to
a brighter future. A future made of pure gold and rich engravings and sparkling
diamonds.
The Mighty Overhyped. They may or may not care about it, but everyone around them
thinks they’re gonna make it big anytime now. Their results are inflated, and their
attending sessions and drills is noticed much more than that of others. They are often
teased about being awesome, and whenever they fail, there’s always next time.
The Obsessed Magpies. They collect stuff, and they love it. They would rather spend all
their time gathering notes and all sorts of patterns on popsicles, artificial mangoes,
Ostrich feathers — and just about everything they find shiny or collection-worthy —
than actually using them.
The Blamer-Excuser. They fail as a prerequisite. And then they have a very valid reason
for their failure. Sometimes it’s a slight niggle or a hamstring and at other times it’s the
panda that was shaking in the wind or the optimization that went wrong because of a
silly miscalculation or the Ostrich that had acute constipation because of no fault of
theirs. Failure follows them — just like a river following the civilization.
The Solitary Wolf. They spend most of their time alone, and prefer not practicing alone
to practicing alone to not practicing not alone to practicing not alone. Occasionally,
further, based on their inherent nature, they end up either insouciant52 or insomniacal.
52
Casually unconcerned
65
The Over-Overanalyst. They look at all the parameters there are, and then make their
own ones as well. They know the wind speed, precipitation, their pulse rate, the
slickness-to-stickiness ratios of various popsicles, their Regular results — the scores, the
ranks, and the percentiles in all three mock quests, the ablated pseudo-distance
amortized over eliminated cross-routes in a given Merchant pathway, etc. And yet they
lack common sense and fail.
The Social Buff. They eat and breathe through tiny pores on the sides of their phones.
They love the dopamine hits the sense of online belongingness gives them. One of them
(8287371) tried to take a funky selfie with an Ostrich that bit his left ear.
The Differently-Fashioned. They simply don’t care how they look. And on a totally
unrelated note, they look weird. Like, imagine orange pyjamas on red shoes on an
unclouded evening. Or a self-destructive haircut with a piercingly simple top. They
stand out, sure.
The Master’s Fawners. They backscratch their Masters in hope of using it as an unfair
advantage over their peers. However, most of them do the flattery part well enough, but
don’t know how to benefit out of it. It gets saddeningly hilarious in the long term.
The Clueless Cartoons. Everyone considers them to be super dumb. They don’t
understand their sessions, are a debacle at drills, and have no freaking idea what is going
on. Everyone trashes them saying mean things — like they were born inside a nuclear
plant or they were abandoned by their parents after some bullies threw rocks at their
heads, etc. They have, according to Odell, single digit IQs. Everyone knows they’re going
to come last in the G. The Genius Academy only keeps them because given sufficient
disregard, they can cultivate large amounts of cabbage, which the owners of the
academy love to have with piquant ginger curry.
66
Chapter 11
Through their second year of training — and starting a few months before that — every
cluster gathers in the Popsicle arena for their drills to play the classic game of Troupes.
Troupes was invented in its nascent form about seven years ago, when Marvin attempted
to gamify Popsicle Pointer training. It had undergone several additions over the past few
years to become what it had become — a game that in many ways defined the trajectory
a contender took in their personal Popsicle journey.
The game of Troupes was played on a mowed field with ten players53: two teams with
five on each side. Every player. Ugh, “player” sounds so cheesy. Is it at all weird that I’m
talking about narration while telling you this story, dear reader? I’m gonna go with
Comet here. Yes, it does, dammit. No more unwanted meta interruptions.
So, every Comet is given an elliptical piece of thick, hard Ostrich leather with their name
engraved on it in thick capitals. Except Matt, whose name (Mathies) didn’t fit and thus
had to be represented by the first six letters. Until the last batch of Comets, this oval
piece of thick, hard Ostrich leather did not have a name54, but the wave has now settled
over “Sole”, because it looks like super thick gumboot soles — if gumboot soles were
made of leather, that is.
53
In GA parlance this is called the “Classic Troupes”, played mostly by the Comets, and
once a month by other Clusters, who play the more plebeian variant called “Common
Troupes”, which can support 10-100 players and consumes significantly less cabbage.
54
Last year, an obsessively-compulsively-inquisitive nerd realized that everything must
have a name so that those people who take that name can lead fulfilling lives. [sic]
67
With the Sole, every Comet gets an Armor55 that covers the whole of their body with a
mesh-like material. There’s a two-inch-wide gap of air between the mesh-like material
and the Comet. The mesh, on being hit from the outside, depresses on that point to
touch the Comet’s body. A dent once made on the Armor cannot be reconvexed. There
are two circular holes in the Armor for transparent, perforated polycarbonate for the
eyes and for circulation. Inside the mesh is another aluminium mesh closely touching
the body, which helps gauge the amount of Depression and obviate any possibility of
injury.
The goal of the game is to cause as much Depression on the opponent’s Armor as
possible within thirty minutes by throwing plastic Popsicles at them. The game has two
pentagons, each inscribing one of the concentric circles on the field. All of this has been
done once and for all. Initially, Team-A stands in the inner pentagon (with one member
on each vertex), and Team-B on the other, slightly larger one. This point is where the
members of team-B plant their Soles. They then take plastic-Popsicles from a trolley in
front of them at a one-hand distance, and aim at their opponent’s Armors. In Classic
Troupes, there’s an infinite supply of plastic Popsicles (there’s support staff refilling the
trolleys).
So the basic idea is this: for the first few throws, you’re most likely going to hit a fresh
spot on the mesh Armor, and cause a Depression. But as you go on, every throw on a
spot that’s already dented is a waste of time and effort. And so the goal is to aim for a
new spot every time. The challenge being that the members of Team-A can move their
bodies to get out of the way or to force the Popsicle to hit an already dented point on the
Armor. They are allowed to move in whatever way they wish to as long as their feet stay
fixated on the ground, because you’re not allowed to move your feet after the first
Depression.
55
Common Troupes does not have Armors, and non-Comets use hand-held target boards
in their stead.
68
After every five minutes, a bell rings in three sharp dings, and everyone from Team-B
takes one step back away from their Sole. An imaginary straight line from the
opponent’s feet to their Sole helps the Pointer stay on course. The step size is
customarily around two feet, and minor deviation is usually ignored.
There’s a zip behind the Armor that runs vertically across the entire Armor. After the
thirty minutes are over for both sides (by the way, they don’t wear the Armors while
throwing Popsicles), they turn in their Armors, and small white beads made of
lightweight expanded polystyrene are filled in between the two meshes. More the
Depression, lesser the space left, hence lesser the eeight of whatever fills it. Whichever
team has more total weight of filled beads wins the game and is given a small prize.
For the first few months, the game of Troupes was a lot of fun for the Comets. They
laughed around, taking little steps away from their Soles, increasing Depression, and
aching for the next time they’ll get to repeat it again.
The reason why it was so much fun was that they got to look around and see what
everyone else was doing. Mayur Ramaswamy was having a hard time balancing himself
and avoiding the barrage of Popsicles at the same time. Odell seemed very irritated by the
entire ordeal, and had given up on trying to save himself from Depression at all. Instead,
he stood straight and when Ayann yelled at him that their whole team is going to lose
because of him, he replied, “Again, why do you think I care?”. After that, Alek yelled at
him the same thing. That was when he conceded, “I’m not a clown and I’m not doing
this buffoonery, but I’ll make up for it when I start throwing.”
While aiming Popsicles, Ayann, Odell, and Mayur Ramaswamy were aggressive, while
Kael, Eddie, and Marjo were meek. The most dangerous, however, in terms of
Depression per distance from Sole, were Alek and Kiana. There was something about
their calculated endeavor that was just somehow different. They didn’t seem to throw
69
any more or less Popsicles than what would be considered ideal. At one point Kael and
Kiana got a serious thrashing from Marvin because he convinced her from the opposite
team to proffer her cheeks so he could give her Armor Dimples.
⋆⋆⋆
When Ayann Meredith was seven years old, back at his modestly furnished 3-BHK
home in island#8, he once went to a children’s park at the far south of town with his
elder sister Becca, eight years elder, both of them on bicycles. He argued that he be
allowed to park his bicycle in the four-wheeler parking, while the local guard was
pressing him to go to the two-wheeler parking instead. His bicycle has two small support
wheels on the sides, attached to the back axle much like Kiana’s, hence the four-wheeler
parking warrant. Becca smiled, thinking that Ayann was such a cute and precocious little
thing.
⋆⋆⋆
When Ayann was seventeen years old, he was sitting on the toilet seat, taking a shit and
brushing his teeth at the same time. To save time, of course. The shower was set at forty
percent hot, sixty cold, slowly getting warm enough. He used to call Becca during this
time as well, but then one day he had left his phone on speaker with no background
noise cancellation and she had heard disgusting detonations and had yelled “Eurghhhh”
at the top of her voice. Since then Becca had stopped answering morning calls from
Ayann, and she once said that she hoped he’ll one day mix up his left and right hands.
⋆⋆⋆
70
Chapter 12
Alek was running on a road that ran along a range of knolls56. The knolls were either
crocodile-green or grape-jam-purple. The knolls were all roughly of the same size, but
never exactly. The range was on the left side of the road. Alek didn’t know what was
right. He never thought to look. In between the road and the knolls were palm trees that
would have appeared taller than the knolls when looked from Alek’s eyes. Because of the
angle. But he was running too fast. He was looking at his own legs from twenty feet
behind, and he had the legs of an Ostrich. He was also looking at the knolls, which
reflected sunlight. They hid the sun from his eyes as well. But if all of them were actually
grape-jam-purple, surely crocodile-green wouldn’t have come to his mind.
Alek was dreaming.
⋆⋆⋆
In the next room sat Ayann and Mayur Ramaswamy, at 3:00 am, when they heard two
soft knocks. For a second they panicked, but Ayann showed Mayur Ramaswamy his
hand, indicating it’s all right, because they simply couldn’t imagine two soft knocks
from Mr. Tuffin at 3 o’clock in the night. They opened the door to find Kael
whispering, “I knew Ayann would be here.”. The “knew” was stressed. Every Comet had
sleepless nights — around once a week — and around once a month three of them
synced and met secretly at one of their rooms.
Except Odell and Jacody, both of whom had never participated in these meetings. Ayann
and Mayur Ramaswamy were having Coca-Cola, but Kael didn’t like carbonated drinks
too much.
56
A small and rounded hill, usually covered with grass
71
⋆⋆⋆
Alek saw his own face with his mouth wide open, revealing rotten, yellow teeth with
cavities on the molars. His face seemed larger than usual, but maybe that’s just because
he was looking at it from up close. The range of knolls was gone. The whole left side was
gone. The concept of there being a left and a right side was gone. But there was Odell.
He encountered a group of intimidating strangers in a deserted alley while walking
home. There were no canines, just premolars and incisors. Two of his teeth were
missing, but it wasn’t clear which ones. But it was exactly two. He tried running faster.
But he wasn’t running at all, because he could see his Ostrich legs no more.
Alek was sweating too.
⋆⋆⋆
Ayann shifted toward the opposite wall to make space for Kael, not that he needed
much. Kael rolled on the bed, at the same time saying, “What were you guys up to?”.
Ayann responded, “So I was just telling Mayur Ramaswamy about all kinds of mangoes
we have back at my place57. So first up there’s the Tommy Atkins that they use for
Merchant. It is, as you know, large and circular and red. But if you ask me, it tastes like
rubber. That’s why they use it, think about it, like otherwise if they use the tasty ones
the Monkey would jump out toward the basket and snatch them all. But for the
Tommies they’re like, “Yeah, if you throw them I’ll catch.”
57
Ayann is from island #8, famous for export of mangoes throughout the Gaeadore, and
his dad knew all about mangoes because he lived near a farm as a kid.
72
⋆⋆⋆
Odell was the same as him. Obese, with borderless, rectangular eyeglasses, and cavalier58.
Except this time Alek could only make out his face (beaming) and his buttocks. There
was a deserted, darkish hallway. But Odell did not win. So then it must be a mistake —
why would Odell get the medal and the huge trophy, if it was Alek who won the G?
Alek tried to close the door (diagonally on the left), but the dog was quicker. It swerved
and settled into a side-sleeping pose in one swift motion. Alek convinced himself that
pet dogs never bite. But it felt as if he was convincing the dog, not himself. Or the
female. Or Odell. But Odell was gone.
Alek’s heart was beating faster.
⋆⋆⋆
“And then there’s the Dessert Mango,”continued Ayann, “also called the Francis. You
get those only in the summers, but boy they’re sweet. Only problem with them is the
shape. So they don’t fit that well in your hand, and mangoes are best eaten directly by
hand. And the feel is half the essence of the fruit. And with the Dessert, there’s the Fake
Dessert, that vendors sell off-season to pass as Dessert. It looks similar to the weird
S-shape, but is yellowish and nowhere near as sweet.”
⋆⋆⋆
Alek had a gun. It looked like a shotgun but he was sure it fired bolts like from a
crossbow. He was aiming and shooting what was a half-zombie and half-clown. The first
one went down after two shots on the trunk (they were fired like a shotgun bullet but
58
Offhand and disdainful in attitude, usually marked by a unshrouded, haughty
arrogance towards opponents
73
damaged like a crossbow bolt) and the second one required none — the half-zombie and
half-clown wasn’t there when Alek looked the first time. He knew it was there, but he
never really saw it. Alek was on a rope.
Alek realized it was a dream.
⋆⋆⋆
Ayann went on, “The Bowen Mango, which is not actually grown in island #8, is again,
bad in taste. It’s imported from island #13 and exported again with all the others. This
one has a super satisfying shape though, and in your hand it will just feel full. Fulfilling.
Full Feeling.59 But it has a lot of fiber — and from the outside one expects it to be juicy
— so it ends up being a disappointment in a way.”
⋆⋆⋆
The rope was tight, but not tight enough. Alek was trying his best to balance himself,
and he never looked down. He knew that the rope was the hardest part, and if he could
cross this, everything would get better. But he was losing balance. The female didn’t
help. Kiana was sitting in front of him, slightly smiling. He didn’t know what to say, but
he didn’t need to say anything, he thought. She was already smiling at him. But she
didn’t say anything either. But she could not see him, because even he could not see
himself.
Alek had an erection.
⋆⋆⋆
59
Who knew Ayann loved bad puns? Literally everyone. Including Fin-J, who loved them
too.
74
“Then there’s the Honey, or the Ataulfo mango. It starts with sour and gets sweeter as it
ripens. But at the same time, it starts getting wrinkles all over the sides. It’s long-shaped,
like an eggplant, and thus only good for sucking. And for that too, you need the perfect
balance of sweet and sour, which is pretty hard to get.”
⋆⋆⋆
There was nothing. Nothing was happening. But Alek wasn’t getting bored. People
were making fun of him. But there were no people. And there was no him. And there
was no fun. Time must have passed. But Alek didn’t know that. How can you know
time has passed, if nothing has changed? And how can anything change if there was
nothing in the first place? The pillow was back. Kiana was still smiling, but she was
gone.
Alek was fearful. If only god would save him this one time, he would not make any other
mistake in his life.
⋆⋆⋆
“The Totapuri is imported as well. Its shape is pretty unique, but it doesn’t taste good.
Not that the shape is good as well, mind you, it’s just unique. It’s shaped like an
upside-down parrot, and it has hard flesh with no fiber, and tastes a bit like the Honey,
only more sour.”
⋆⋆⋆
Alek had lost balance. He was falling down, but he had clung to the rope with both his
hands just in time. Scratch that, one hand was enough. The other was swimming them
up — him and the rope. Because there was a possibility that the rope was falling with
75
him. But he was still not looking up. He could not. But he was not looking down as
well. He was facing down, but he could not look down. Alek didn’t know why. But the
mattress did.
Alek started grinding his teeth.
⋆⋆⋆
Ayann continued, “The Sein Ta Lone, or the Diamond Mango, is just plain sweet. And
on top of that, it has a great smell too. Like, you could fill your stomach with just the
smell itself. It’s skin, however, is ragged and calloused. It’s also not available year-round,
which is a big deal if you’re a mango freak.”
⋆⋆⋆
Alek didn’t know where his hands were. At least one of them. Alek had lost balance. But
he was going to-and-fro. Forwards and backwards. And yet, falling with the rope. Was
there a ground? He thought there was a thud when people fell and hit the ground. But
here, there was no thud. But he wasn’t hitting the ground. He was just going to-and-fro.
Rocking. His legs were his own legs. And yet, they somehow felt someone else’s.
Alek twitched in his sleep.
⋆⋆⋆
“And finally, we have the Alphonso. It’s as tender as love itself. It has the texture of
butter, and the shape . . . well, let me just say that God created humans so they could
savor the Alphonso. It’s the perfect amount of sweet, with the perfect smell and the
perfect color. It’s the fucking best kind of mango there is. There’s no better mango than
the Alphonso in any way. Literally, it’s perfect from every angle. It touches all your
76
tastebuds and it’s juicy and smells like a dream. When you hold it in your hand . . . when
you smell it and taste it . . . it’s hypnotic. Magical. Ethereal.”
⋆⋆⋆
It was dark. Overcast. But I am in a room, thought Alek. How can it be overcast and
cloudy inside a room? He never looked up. He could not. But he wasn’t looking down
either. He could not. He looked down only once. For a split second. But why was he
sweating, when the AC was ON? Alek was on the bed, in the dull lighting of the room.
Alek just had anal sex with a faceless, attractive, mature woman who was well into her
forties.
Alek woke up.
⋆⋆⋆
“The point I’m trying to make”, finished Ayann, “is that Marjo’s got Alphonsos.”
⋆⋆⋆
It was 4:00 am. They (Kael, Ayann, and Mayur Ramaswamy) heard slaps from Alek’s
room. He was slapping himself really hard. Harder than anyone had ever slapped him.
He was sweating. The slaps echoed through the hostel floor and guarded against anyone
trying to get in. They thought of knocking on the door and checking on him, but they
knew better. They knew these slaps too well themselves. The slaps, Alek’s own slaps,
came and hit him, and cracked him.
Thes slaps whispered echoes of self-doubt, and Alek’s resolve shattered with each strike.
And in the torment, he thought he’ll find strength. Like many a mistaken teenagers at
77
the Genius Academy, Alek too thought it was the pain afterwards that mended broken
bones.
The slaps hurt.
Like winds on a wilted tree.
⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆
⋆ End of Part 1 ⋆
⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆
78
Part II: The Bend
(to be continued)
Thank you so, so much for reading. I’ll buy you some chocolate.
79

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THE SLAPS HURT.

May the narrative fulfill its primary aim: to entertain.

With so much love,

Whenever I look at long white hair on someone, it reminds me of the white-bearded,

“Can you look at my long hair?”, he said. I said “Sorry?”.

Part I: The Slip

Kael stopped waving back. He said he will.

“The Heroes who made it big.”, Kael thought to himself.

“So, what’s your name?”, started the canoeman.

“Ka-el.”, he paused, “What’s it mean?”

“I’m not really sure. I think it’s good-looking”, Kael said.

“What’s the Comet Cluster?”, asked Kael.

Mr. Tuffin, the warden-cum-gratuitous-counsellor, welcomed all the male Comets to

“Go on, check your rooms.”, Mr. Tuffin broke it.

In the forty-seventh iteration of the Gaudeamus-Gaeadorus (hereafter ‘the G’) to be

The three compulsory pursuits (or challenges) are:

1. Popsicle Pointer: The contestant shall be provided with a plastic-insulated 70-litre

sorted on strength and distributed amongst the contestants with strengths

Female contestants shall be provided with Horses instead of Ostriches.15

“What do you think? Can we catch her if we run?” asked Kael.

“Only one way to know.”, replied Ayann.

“You — opp’edd’ — itt.”, Ayann tried to say in an extremely drained voice,

to this more environment-friendly one:

He did so by pulling the most elaborate, awe-inspiring, bust-bursting, tap-leaking prank

Eddie started yelling. He tried to shake it off him. It didn’t work.

A seam-less, wire-free, lace-trimmed, cotton bra. A paragliding, unfurling, buoyant bra.

5800869, however, didn’t subscribe to cross-the-line-and-pay-the-fine. He couldn’t miss

Eddie drank water from his water-bottle.

1. Eddie was hiding behind the door, about to hit 5800869.

Square inches of chestnut and espresso.

Years after Alek had avowed to never meet Mayur Ramaswamy in

A Circus they never knew they’d be attending.

“No.”, she said.

Ayann whispered to Alek and Mayur Ramaswamy, “lucky bastard”.

Contenders participating in the G avoided going to most circuses to focus on their

Finley-James Saunders, well-known sobriquet ‘Fin-J’, begot a vibe of skittish silence

Kael opened the notes they got that day:

Heuristics for Near-Optimal Tours

Unofficially, though, the computer had, in hard-drives indexed A to C, D to H, I to M, N

Masters at Genius have been instructed by the administration to promote “checking

It was a regular — but with a curious assortment of cheap-but-spirited DIY features. It

The periphery of Maponga was eight miles of joy.

“Discriminatory.”, corrected Kael.

Alek had had lice for a couple of weeks now.

You would find hundreds of thousands of seven-digit numbers. Seven-digit numbers

Seven-digit numbers. Too much to subtract and too little to add.

Alek was dreaming.

Alek was sweating too.

Alek’s heart was beating faster.

Alek realized it was a dream.

Alek had an erection.

Alek started grinding his teeth.

Alek twitched in his sleep.

Alek woke up.

The slaps hurt.

Like winds on a wilted tree.

Part II: The Bend

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