Chapter - 1

Sampark Kranti Express is 6 hours late

Auto ride from Yeshwenthpur railway station usually takes 1 hour and multiple of 100 rupees to reach southern ramparts of Bangalore, BTM to be more precise. Robin got into one after rejecting number of them with a swagger that was a dead give away - he was yet another northie fucker. Finally after walking for 300 m from the train station, he surrendered to Pasha's swanky new TVS rickshaw. "Wanda haff" meter reading saar, it is very far and lot of jam, Pasha had argued. Robin was too tired.

Partly due to 46 hour journey that should have taken 40 and partly due to insistence of his father Mr Kashmirilal Nirula who insisted that he should take a steel trunk. It would make a side table, he opined. Ofcourse his father had no idea that Bangalore train stations dont yet have conveyor belts for walking. Though ride was uneventful, Robin did try to observe numbers on "mains" and "crosses" that Pasha was passing by. Couple of times, he even thought Pasha was going in circles. That secret is going with Pasha to his grave for sure. At last, Robin was at his destination - Reddy Suites.

After paying damages and seeing Pasha off, Robin checked in at the front desk. I work for Factware, tomorrow is my joining. Lady at the reception asked him to give his passport for a xerox and sign at the register. Flat number is 403 and lift is down the hallway, she said. Also no drinking or playing TV loud, rules and regulations of the establishment are available on the center table in your flat.

Where are the keys?, Robin asked with an air of someone who has been doing business travel for years. Though reality was that he had only been to 3 places in his life - delhi, vaishno devi and Karnal. Delhi had been his birthplace, his father was a huge mata ka bhakt and Karnal rounded up as a place where he completed his engineering degree. Chaudhary Mote Lal Nikhanj Degree College, a deemed university.

Keys are in flat, your roommate arrived in the morning, said lady who was now personifying Robin's frustration. It is a 2 BHK flat for 4 people, new joinees get accomodation on twin sharing basis only.

Vardarajan had retired early to bed, he had come in the morning itself. Volvo from hyderabad had dropped him at Majestic from where he took bus to BTM. His cousin who had lived in Bangalore for years had tutored him well. His cousin was his role model , BTech, Java programmer, H1B visa and a cushy long term maintenance project in Wisconsin. Vardarajan knew about all the factors that will make him a wealthy even before some serious money comes his way from marriage. That will be an icing on the cake.

Bell rang and Vardarajan in only his lungi answered. Hi this is Robin Nirula, I am from Deli with an accent that could make Shoaib Akhtar cringe. Hello, my name is Vardarajan Dasari Rao and I am from Hyderabad. Vardarajan dressed up and started thinking about some dinner while Robin had a bath and started thumbing TV remote control. Fuck, no hindi channels, will have to settle for a news channel.

Both were in no mood to make an idle talk but eerie silence was very discomforting. There were some brochures from nearby restaurants - roti mandir, nagarjuna and dominos. First and Second had a split vote, so Dominos it was. One large veg pizzaa with extra toppings.

Aint you delhi walas non veg always? said a surprised Vardarajan. Yes I am but these days mata's naraates (navratri) are going on. No beer and chicken till next week, said Robin.

More small talk followed, So what is your native? Delhi only?

Robin was not sure about the term native but he took a guess and replied.No my parents are from Punjab. Extended family is still in Jalandhar.

Oh so you guys are sardars! where is your....that thing on head? And then Vardarajan started to make an obnoxious gesture that seemed like someone high on ecstacy tablets was trying to wrap a turban.

We are not Sikhs, we are Hindu Punjabis. Robin was irritated at his roommate's ignorance.

Hmm, I thought all Punjabis are Sardarjis, Varadarajan was surprised.Do you know there are more muslim punjabis than hindu and sikh punjabis put together? Robin countered rhetorically.

And where do they live? Robin was at his wits' end before bell rang. Money got split to last rupee, both men refused to put in extra 10 rupees for tip to delivery guy. Slices were devoured without emotions, seasoning was emptied and ketchup sachets were all squeezed out. Parcel was thrown into the bin and both men decided to take a walk around the apartment complex.

Shops seemed a good kilometer away and road was not very well lit. A Bullet motorcycle came out of nowhere and almost rammed into Robin and his sleepy colleague. Come with us to ATM now! Guy on the pillion was a rowdy and much larger than any other madrassi that Robin had ever come across in his life. He had a classmate in his sixth standard - Arun Raja. His only claim used to nauseating masala idlis and top marks in english. But he was no match in physical terms for biggest bullies in any west delhi schools - the Jats. But friendship with Robin got him protection till Raja's father got transferred again. This time to Chandigarh. Robin hoped he was no sodomized by harayanavis during his school days.

I dont have money, Robin muttered. Thats why we are asking you to come to ATM. Walk alongside to the end of the street or else.. Both Vardarajan and Robin could see a knife that rowdy on the pillion hid in his hooded jacket. Both complied and started walking away from direction of shopping complex. Thoughts raced through their minds - Robin was hoping that someone might be present at the ATM, Vardarajan hoped his ATM card wont work.

Since rowdies were still on the bike, the machine was only trudging at less than 5 kmph. And they had to maneuver pot holes on the road. Robin had been biking since 13, late age for someone in Delhi to take up an automobile. Had his first challan at 15, it was somewhere buried in dusty nook of his study room back in Delhi. He knew everything about biking on the bullet - its strengths and weaknesses. If you face a slight imbalance in the bike and it is tilting, first rule of bullet riding is - leave the fucking bike or else your spine will snap. A sudden rush of adrenaline followed and he pushed rowdies on the bike with a violent force. True to its nature, bike crushed their legs and stunned them into disbelief. Both ran a sprint of their lives towards the apartment complex.

What if they remember our faces and are waiting for us tomorrow morning? Vardarajan was sweating a little more than Robin. Same thought had crossed his mind as well, but he did not want to think about it.

Why has India's leading IT company put us up in this crappy place? Robin thought that was more important question. All softies live in BTM and Koramangala only, Koramangala is more expensive you see, replied Vardarajan. He had all the figures on rentals, sale/purchase and variations amongst different street at the back of his hand courtesy his cousin.

You North Indians are more aggressive isnt it. That is why you could think of doing that imbalance stunt today.

Robin wasnt sure if it was a compliment. Pakistan, he said. Pakistan where majority of the Muslim Punjabis live. Good night.