Being Icy Cool

BEING ICY COOL

ABHIJIT KARNIK

First Indian Edition 2008, published by Coriander Books. © ABHIJIT KARNIK Coriander Books [A Division of PrimeTime Publishing] 1st Floor, Ujagar Silk Mills, Opp Deonar Bus Depot, Sunder Baug, Deonar, Mumbai - 400 088. Tel: 6770 4141/42/43 Fax: 6770 4144 E-mail: [email protected] ISBN: 978-81-8372-043-4 No part of this book may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Printed at Krystal Print Products, Mumbai. Cover Design & Page Layouts: Neeta Patel All Rights Reserved www.primetimepublishing.in

To Ni and Ka The Class of IC2K

For my parents and sis. For being there, all through.

Special thanks to Raj, editor, PrimeTime Publishing, for patiently dealing with the naïveties of a first-time author.

CON T EN TS

PROLOGUE ............................................................................. 1

I . FINDING THE GUIDE ......................................................... 3

I I . FLIGHTS OF IMAGINATION ......................................... 1 4

I I I . DOES HE NOT LOVE? ....................................................... 2 0

I V . FLEAS OF A THOUSAND MANGY CAMELS ............. 6 4

V. MEANING OF TIME ......................................................... 9 0

V I . GORDIAN KNOT .............................................................. 1 3 4

V I I . LOOSE ENDS ..................................................................... 1 4 6

PR O LO GUE PRO Did y o u g e t t h e m e s s a g e? ge You sure got the message! In the event you didn’t, you ought to read this book. It does not promise to reveal the many secrets about the Universe, though it takes a pot-shot at them. There are no words of wisdom that will make sense to the sensible — folks who consider other peoples’ opinion or writing as levelheaded. This book is a mirror. You may look-in and sound-out theories that seem outrageous or downright nonsensical. If you’ve read this far, I strongly recommend that you read further too. But first a quick reminder: “BUY ME!”

Ab e This novel is about Abe. There is no intention to offer a powerful introduction to the central character of the book — just a précis about him would suffice. After all, this work charts Abe’s nature, character, his progress, metamorphosis and eventual destiny. So, without much ado, let’s present Abe. Abe is a typical above-average guy. By calling him above-average, I indicate that he is neither the re-incarnation of Albert Einstein nor Bozo, the Clown. With a measured IQ of 136, Abe is supposed to possess a mental age far advanced than his physical age. But as they say, “Standardized intelligence tests are as much a measure of intelligence as the barometer is the measure of wind velocity.” So the figure136 fails to reveal a great deal about Abe. By the way, this work is also intended to explore the unsaid. Abe is the typical boy next door, all right. By the expression, ‘boy next door,’ one is usually tempted to think of a Greek God staying incognito for a momentary duration to allow some inexplicable curse to wear off. This is what they usually do in the movies. The guy/gal next door is also essentially the next Ms Universe or Mr Underpants-Outside-Trousers-Superhero. Abe is not. He won’t be donning a cape and flying around the world, at night. Also he won’t fall for the most beautiful babe in town. He’s what we simply emphasize as the ‘boy next door.’ Yet he remains the central character of this book. BEING ICY COOL

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A c c e p t an c e o f E Exx i s t e n c e I would also like to clearly spell out a few additional details. A-F-E-W-D-E-T-A-I-L-S. Agreed there is a vast fountain of prolific and highly imaginative writing out there. In no particular order of preference, I accept that books, or series, like ‘Harry Potter,’ ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,’ ‘Illusions,’ ‘The One,’ ‘Lord of the Rings,’ ‘Cosmos,’ ‘Contact’ etc., “reside” in our consciousness. I’ve had the good opportunity to read some of them. It is, therefore, expected that since I tend — like most of us do — to assimilate the essence of the book I read, my writing could be influenced subtly, or otherwise, by their fundamental nature. It is, as a result, expected that my readers recognize this reality with a pinch of salt and try to understand the “soul” of my work, instead of trying to dissect it into its constituents. While I’ve made no attempt to stand among the ranks of the great minds that created immortal works, the right to freedom of expression, and of thought, is duly respected and exercised. This book’s origins are rather strange. It started with a plan to write “memoirs” of our class of IC2K [Instrumentation and Control Batch of 2000]. However, owing to several constraints, if not differences, and lack of coordination, the plans never materialized. All the same, I was extremely keen to note down events that dictated my life over a span of four very significant years. This would seem a boring narrative if I were to stick to reality and/or stay true to the timelines. In addition, I found it difficult to address the entire book as a firstperson narrative. As a result, fact now appears mutated to fiction and/or fused to totally unrelated incidents. Most of the incidents are purely a figment of my imagination. They may have never transpired. To do justice to the characters, however, and to make reading interesting, I present “story-bound” forms of the many real-life people who played important roles during those momentous four years. Put succinctly, this book only uses fictionalized accounts of real incidents to glue together totally fictitious events. There is also no intent, or attempt made, to hurt the sensitivities or sentiments of any individual — overtly or covertly. Coincidences, if any, are doubtlessly unintentional. —AK

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I. FI NDING TTH HE GU FIN GUIIDE 1. D ull D a y iin nC Du Da Cll a s s It was a beautiful day. The perfect day when one ought to be in the open, driving down an empty highway, wind blowing through one’s hair, or maybe lazing by the pool in a cozy deck chair. The Sun was partly obscured by the clouds. The hide-and-seek effect it was creating was what gets you into the mood for poetry, or activity that spawns the need for poetry. “But this is the very problem,” thought Abe. He was stuck in a room with a dull white coloured wall listening to a teacher, a good teacher, who, for once, failed to hold his attention. “This is the very problem,” continued Abe, albeit to his own self. He had come to realize through painful experiences that asking simple questions or making even simpler statements aloud could invite a great deal of trouble. For instance, there was a time, when in 2nd Grade, Abe had made that mistake, for the first and maybe the last time. The textbook said in bold words, “Air is everywhere.” He had also read sometime before about this thing called space, where you couldn’t stay without a spacesuit because there was no air. Besides, it was also inconveniently filled with something called vacuum. He had found out that spacesuits were not available at the local clothes shop, which meant that not many kids went into space. But the thought that you could float made it a very lucrative playground for him. By the time he finished a game of space-tag in his mind, the teacher had finished the lecture too. “Do you have any questions?” The funny thing about this question is that no one is supposed to answer. You are supposed to look at the pretty girl sitting on the chair to your right. You think it was addressed to her, while she looks at you and thinks it was addressed to the clown on her left. But that day, way back in 2nd Grade, Abe had broken the rule. He had raised his hand and before the teacher could ignore his pitiable but defiant attempt to break the rule, he said, “I have read there is no air in space.” What followed next was something that Abe would like to forget. There was also a reason why Abe was remembering his gaffe today. There was something in common. Both were beautiful days. Time is a great teacher. As time progressed, Abe realized that all the knowledge, which lecturers imparted, was simply outdated. It was not the fault of the BEING ICY COOL

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education system. It was just that, like every well-oiled machine that tends to creak in some unexpected corner, every system was outdated in some part or whole. Abe had come to believe that it was his obligation to the greater good to be in that working part of the machine, or system. So, here he was, listening to things that had been taught to people who had sat in the same seat as he was doing now. There were also two fundamental flaws in the whole picture. Firstly, the seat he was sitting in wasn’t there 10 years ago; in fact, it was not in existence even five years before him, since this college was just as old. Five years. Secondly, there was nothing wrong about learning things that had been taught 10 years ago. 2+2 = 4 has been in vogue for ages, written or oral. It would be pretty incorrect to change it to 2+2 = 10. Given a chance, Abe would have argued that 2+2 is actually equal to 10. This emerges, he’d well say, from the normal human brain, bearing direct descent from [or, to satiate the theological lot — ascent from] the Devonian fish with ten phalanges — to comprehend a 10-based numeral system. Abe, however, considered himself to be a flawed descendant. He took no offence to the word descent, since it was as good as ascent. His argument would have stated, that given a base-4 system, 2+2 would actually equal 10. Or, maybe 01, given your ability or a birth-enforced disposition to read from right to left or left to right. This was all for the sake of argument. The main pain-area of the whole matter was that given the rapid pace of industrial development, the technology aspect being forcibly taught was used by his parents and people of their time too — when they were of Abe’s age — but not necessarily due to the prohibitive cost of technology of the time. No modern-day astronomer would be caught dead with the drawing of the Earth, held up on the back of a turtle swimming in an ocean, with the stars, the Sun and the Moon revolving above. Likewise, no modern-day process plant would be found working on outdated instrumentation, which Abe was learning about. There was very little to despair for the greater good. The study course was being revamped, but for the batch to which Abe belonged… it was too late. They would be the last martyrs to the age-old belief that old is gold. This was the proverb for an antique shop salesman, not for Abe. Abe felt exasperated. It was a beautiful day outside, yet its effect didn’t permeate inside or into the classroom. Forever cut-off, it was like being inside some blackhole with a selective filter. What appalled Abe the most was the fact that the beautiful day did little to improve the mood of the lecturer. Probably, it was the boring subject matter. Teaching crap is possibly more boring than learning it. The learner or the listener has the choice to tune out the teacher or the speaker. The speaker didn’t have this privilege. 4

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Abe, having realized a choice could be made, decided to exercise it. He opened a blank page in his notebook and started doodling. The best thing about doodling is that the person doodling doesn’t have to consciously control the movement of the pen. It moves on its own, as if guided by the mind through telekinesis. Call it automatic writing. But Abe couldn’t doodle. This was a regular vexation for him. His mind, bearing witness to flawed descent, unlike his ancestors, couldn’t swim around in the void of the ocean, without aim or direction, on auto-pilot. It required conscious effort to do anything to manipulate reality. So he wrote: “Why are we here? Why on such a beautiful day, we choose to stay in a lifeless concrete enclosure filled with a mass of humanity which we have an aversion to?” His misanthropic nature was not a hidden virtue. He’d rather have a photograph without humans and a piece of music without the human voice making a ruckus along with it. He continued, “I think maybe I know the answer. I may be wrong, but at least it is a thought. We sit here to gain knowledge. Knowledge, which we may use to advance our economic and social status in this clutter of humans we call society. Yep! We, as soldiers of fortune, march out on our own on the road to success. This is success that we measure on the lines of how much we have earned — not how much toil we put in, or how many heads we stepped on our way to the pinnacle of glory.” This was also the part where Abe’s imagination would picture crampon boots mashing over a sea of heads. This may have emerged from undiscovered, mild autism or maybe it was just his mind connected more vividly with images than words, or even people around him. The lecturer decided to walk down the aisle, but that was no problem for Abe. He knew being seated in the first row always ensured the lecturer assumed that you knew the answers and not ask you questions. After all, when you sit in the front row, the hot seat, you need to know something. Else you should have lots of guts and a thick skin to be able to deflect any pointed insults that may come your way on being discovered. Abe was of a different kind. He had the ability to put on a face that said, “I know it all, dude. I just wrote a thesis for my PhD on that.” So, he sat in the first row. Always. Well, almost always. The lecturer, having now found some other sorry soul doodling in his notebook, was emptying all her anger onto the hapless chap. While she was at it, Abe wrote, “We sit here to make sure that we slog our whole lives trying to get richer and richer. We don’t pause for a moment to enjoy the fresh air, the beautiful sunrise, the first drizzle, but we continue on our neverending search for that elusive thing — happiness. We measure happiness on the basis of mounds of shiny metal in our coffers, or numbers we associate with our bank balance. Still, we will never be happy. On the summit of success we see the BEING ICY COOL

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sky above us as if mocking at our attempt to reach infinity. Yes, we will never be happy, because infinity cannot be reached.” Abe had arrived at this conclusion a long time ago. But just for the heck of it, he too was running the rat race. It gave him a sense of satisfaction, or rather a deep sense of dissatisfaction that seemed like satisfaction — that he was doing something. He wrote: “There will be a time when we can be happy. After having spent our whole life running after happiness, we die. We hear people silently cursing us for making them spend a beautiful day at the cemetery, or those who we dislike say good things about us. We often ‘settle scores’ on this beautiful day. Revenge is sweet, but I have heard the dead can’t hear…” The lecture over, Abe decided to skip the next one. He had company for this mission. This was his friend, Nilesh.

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2. IIn n t r o d u c in g N Niil e s h They say that opposites attract. It is not known who those ‘they’ are, but when it came to Abe and Nilesh, nothing better proved ‘their’ statement. Given their profiles [Abe and Nilesh], nobody could say that the duo shared even a single conversation together. On the contrary, they were the best of friends. Their association started on the day the college began. Abe found Nilesh seated behind him, claiming to be from a school which, Abe felt, produced intelligent, but absolute bozos. To Abe, Nilesh was not exactly a bozo — it seemed that their wavelength matched to some extent. This was where their similarities ended. Nilesh was suave, a natural lady-charmer. He’d disagree, but Abe would back up his claim with numbers. Nilesh was also passionate about his waistline and food. Though these two passions don’t go well together, he managed to strike the right balance. He also liked playing tennis and pranks. He was a good singer. He hated computers and engineering alike and suffered from Monday morning sickness — a dislike for spending two hours of the first day of the week doing carpentry or plumbing in the workshop. He also had a no-nonsense attitude towards other people, which he relaxed a little for Abe. This was probably why they were such good friends. Abe and Nilesh were different. Abe wasn’t anything that Nilesh was. He was, well, different.

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3. IIm mp ro b a bl e, P Prro b a bl e The two friends managed to escape from the class after the first lecturer left and the other entered. They, as usual, went to their hideout. It was not exactly a hideout. There was nothing like a hideout on their college campus. The first thought that struck Abe about the campus, on seeing it for the first time, was, “Gosh, it is so naked.” He had begun to imagine a fierce gun-battle raging on the campus and the apparent difficulty anyone could face while going from one block to the other. The so-called hideout was a secluded place on the north side of Block-B. It was the perfect location for people not wanting to attend classes on such a beautiful day. Funnily, Nilesh and Abe were the only ones there. It didn’t matter to them. Their spot was empty and they flopped down there. Both of them liked the place for a reason. Trees. It was shady and cool. To top it all, there was a clearing in the foliage above. While the Sun did not shine on them directly, the sky would still be visible without hindrance. This had another advantage too. Sitting under trees afforded the hazard of being targeted by frightened or pissed-off birds. To be hit by bird droppings was less probable. Abe proved to Nilesh through trajectory calculations, compounded with vectorial deflection by wind, the probability of a bird actually wanting to ‘drop’ into a clearing barely 12 feet across on two loafing individuals. This theory was soon rewarded, not by a Nobel Prize in Physics, but by Nilesh’s thwack on Abe’s head with a large textbook. Great minds tend to think at the most inappropriate times. Nilesh and Abe were soon engaged in a rather one-sided discussion relating to probabilities, while lying on the grass and watching the clouds float by. “So, what do you think? Probability of everything happening or not happening lies between 0 and 1,” rambled Abe, while Nilesh was trying to wonder if the last cloud that went by was a Double Sundae or Black Forest Delight. “This means, everything, however improbable, is actually probable until something otherwise has already happened. After all, we only talk of probability of events that are yet to occur. Otherwise, the probability of the event simply shifts invariably and unchangeably to either 0 or 1.” A whimper from Nilesh indicated that he was not exactly enjoying it. Abe knew it was weak resistance. He pressed on, “Now, consider knowledge. We don’t have it all. We are here and we’ll spend another two-and-a-half years trying to gain some. What is the probability that we will gain anything, if at all, out of it?” “Given the present circumstances, as we are skipping lectures, the probability of us not gaining something is right now tipping towards 1,” interjected Nilesh.

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“This is not true, although I certainly wish I could gain all the knowledge about how to exist, at one go, conveniently indexed. Now, what is the probability of this thing happening within the next 30 minutes? It is certainly not zero. And if an event ensuring this were to occur right now, your needle of probability, which is tipping towards 1, would tilt to zero and remain stuck there forever.” “Yeah, you are talking about an improbable event happening to two lousy loafers who have nothing better to do than lie down on the lawn and talk about probability. Now, what is the probability of that happening?” “I say zero!” said Nilesh. Abe responded, “On the contrary, my dear idler friend, since we are already here, that part of the event has already happened and the probability of the other part of the event happening too is pushed towards 1 and not zero. In addition, I can guarantee you that the probability of you jumping to your feet in the next 10 seconds is 1.” “Crap!” said Nilesh, “You need a bull charging at me to make me do that!” Abe laughed and said, “I guess the 8-legged arachnid skittering on your shirt should be enough.” “Argh!” retorted Nilesh as he jumped to his feet jerking the hairy apparition off his shirt, and joining Abe in his hysterical laughter. Then abruptly the two stopped. “Say, now that is improbable!” as they stared at a 3-foot circular patch on the grass which seemed to be getting a full blast of sunshine. “How does sunlight that is not even directly overhead produce a patch three feet across when the clearing is at least four times across?” asked Abe. He didn’t get an answer. He was not looking for one. There was a good reason — the reason being that the intensity of light was growing by the moment. Soon, it reached a level where it was no more possible to look at it without shielding the eyes. Then it happened. Just as abruptly the light had appeared, it vanished too. It took some time for Abe, temporarily blinded by the light, to be able to see anything. It felt as if he had walked into a dark room after spending a good deal of time outside on a bright, sunny afternoon. The recovery complete, he realized that the glow had left an artefact. It was a small object about the size of A-4 paper, its thickness encompassing 25 such pages put together. It was shaped like a book and in all respects looked like one — and it was as green as grass.

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4. Q W ERT Y o r D VO R A K QW DV “What the fish is that?” asked Abe. As an unspoken rule, both Abe and Nilesh desisted from using the actual 4-letter expletive. Abe was in no mood to wait for Nilesh to respond. He was already bending over the curious object that was lying in the grass. He had a deep feeling that this was something not ordinary. There was nothing groundless in that feeling. After all, how many things actually drop out of nowhere in a blinding flash of light and are normal? For Trekkies, this would be pretty normal. “Beam me up, Scotty!” is probably the most famous phrase Captain James Tiberius Kirk reportedly never used, although it’s been attributed to him. However, even a hardcore Trekkie would surely be surprised if a Klingon were to materialize in their drawing room, while watching Star Trek. Abe found the thing to be somewhat cold. He actually expected it to be warm. He was imagining a fiery entry into the Earth’s atmosphere, wherein friction would drive up the temperatures in the thousands range. But he realized that the thought was absurd. If the object had taken the normal entry route through the Earth’s atmosphere, assuming it came from outer space, the object would not have just plopped down on the grass without leaving a sizable crater. By trying to push the equations of terminal velocity and gravitational acceleration floating in his head, out into the void of space, Abe was playing with the absurdity of expectation. All was valid as long as the event was normal. This event was not normal. “Logically illogical,” thought Abe. “This one is definitely not normal, so the object not being warm is certainly normal… Abnormally normal.” He picked it up. It was seemingly a simple electronic gadget, with a translucent rectangle at the top, which seemed to be a kind of display. A little below, he saw there was some kind of activity. It was as if the object was reorganizing its structure. Abe half expected it to be some kind of a door that opened for a small alien to pop out, and say, “Hello Earthling! I come in peace. Take me to your leader!” “Logically illogical!” thought Abe, again. How would the alien know he was an Earthling, a resident of Earth? How would the alien know the 3rd rock from the Sun was actually called ‘Earth’, that too only by a select part of the large population of life that inhabits it? How would it know the existence of a societal structure among the most dominant species of ‘Earth’? And lastly how would it know that Abe, a representative of life on ‘Earth’, understood English? While he was running berserk with his thought train, Abe felt a kind of a funny singing sound in his head. It was just like singing of electric wires, which seems to happen at times. Most people never notice this because we have no time to look around and try to figure out sounds coming from somewhere. But 10

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Abe had this habit. He was a kind of person who had some difficulty comprehending simple spoken words, but was able to pinpoint the source and reason for a sound that no one else would hear. Surprisingly, he was not able to place the source of this sound. It was kind of confusing. It seemed the sound was coming from inside his head and all logic defied the existence of the sound. Abe knew his brain was not exactly a sound-producing organ. His thought train was interrupted by something that appeared on the display screen of the object. It read, “Interesting thoughts! QWERTY or DVORAK?” The words QWERTY and DVORAK were flashing alternately. Abe was kind of confused. The first line made sense. His thoughts had at least been somewhat interesting. But the second line didn’t make sense. Then he got the question. The question was about what kind of input keyboard he desired. This was apparent from the fact that the re-arrangement on the object’s surface had created something similar to a keyboard. He must have thought in some corner of his mind it was QWERTY, since the output now read, “QWERTY it is!”

***

5. T h e F ir s t Q ues tio n Qu Abe watched the changing structure on the surface as it formed itself into the QWERTY keyboard. “Your request has been granted!” The words were accompanied by the ebbing and disappearance of the singing sound. “Let me introduce myself.” Words continued to form on the display. “I am the ‘Guide to Existence.’” “To explain my presence here, you first need to understand the Theory of Multiverses.” BEING ICY COOL

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6. T h e o r y o f M ul t i v e r s e s Mu The display started changing rapidly, scrolling the text, but only as fast as Abe could read it.

“Multiverses are a result of the laws surrounding the Big Bang. To the uninitiated, this is the event that brought all the universes into existence. The perspective to the whole event cannot be explained to an individual in a direct way since an individual is constrained by the limited perspective of their small segment… of their own instance of the multiverse compounded by the limited awareness of dimensions. It is like trying to explain to an individual, who is a part of a 2-D existential instance, that there is another plane or another existential instance above him. It would not make sense to the individual since s/he doesn’t know the meaning of ‘above’ , or correctly put, s/he lacks the ability to be aware of ‘Above’. Hence, poetic liberties with similes are put to use to explain the multiverses. The Big Bang is like, well simply put, a big bomb going off. The basic law that we picture in this event is that of ‘Conservation of Momentum.’ According to it, we see that the movement of individual fragments moving away is directly related to the movement of other fragments to bring the sum total of momentum to zero. The Big Bang in the nth dimension is also similar. Now, though this is an unexplained postulate, owing to the limitation of granularity of ‘matter’ at that level, the explosion resulted not only in fragments of the lowest possible size, but also of the same size. Like in bomb fragments the individual fragment is not necessarily inert; it could be dynamically evolving as it moves further. This, effectively, is the occurrence of diverse events following the occurrence of the Big Bang. However, this is seen only for the singular fragment or universe instance. From a broader perspective, fragments moving in relatively similar directions are linked to each other. By certain methods, it is possible to traverse across such interlinked universes. There are chances that the progression of events is similar; it may also be possible to find individuals who are exact copies of individuals from your own instance of the Universe.” To Abe, this was pretty heavy-duty stuff as the concept of ‘above’ would be to the resident of a two-dimensional world. The next question was quite obvious, “Why me?” The Guide was ready for this. The display continued to scroll showing new words. “Abehin and Niehin were perplexed with the same question as maybe you are. Do you know the question? Niehin was the first to come up with it. Abehin 12

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only helped him figure out the answer. Well, this Guide won’t tell you the question. If you have the Guide, you already know the question. It is time to go after the answer. Abehin and Niehin created the Guide and had it published. While it was received pretty well in their Universe, they felt the need to pass on their perspective to their counterparts in other universes. So, here, you have it in your hands.” “Why call it the First Universe?” asked Abe. “It is called the First Universe because it’s the First Universe to stumble upon the question and try to answer it. You may also ask how you can be sure of that. The fact is, any instance of the Universe that finds the answer will try to tell the other universes that are closest. This will propagate till everyone knows the answer. Since the First Universe never got the answer from another Universe, Abehin and Niehin took the privilege to call it the ‘First Universe’ — the First Universe that attempted to answer the question.

Abehin and Niehin were not the first to try and give the answer to the question. Over 2,500 years ago, as measured by our time scales, Moserahin had also tried doing it. He, however, chose to share the answer only with his close confidants and not with the residents of his own Universe. So, his work is believed to be lost, as seen by the First Universe. The only thing known about it is — a part of its name was a number, number 10. The last question which seems to be in your mind, right now, and which follows the logical sequence of questions, is that why the Guide is referred as ‘it’, when you seem to be reading from it. The Guide is referred as ‘it’ since it is not what you are reading it from. What you are reading it from is a translator device that converts the Guide’s contents into a language understood by you. Do you think your language is the lingua franca of all the multiverses? Of course not! I read into your synaptic signals and generate the required translation algorithm.” ****** “All right, it is nearly time for a break. We need to get out of here. I am damn hungry,” Nilesh said as if he was feeling drowsy. Abe looked at Nilesh. He was just sitting up and brushing off the grassy artefacts that clung to the back of his shirt. Abe was quite perplexed. Was Nilesh not standing by him a moment ago? He wondered why, whilst at the threshold of such an important discovery, all Nilesh could think of was food. He wondered what Niehin would be like. Or, maybe, Nilesh had a different purpose to fulfil in this Universe. He also wondered how Abehin would be like. There was one difference between him and Abehin. Unlike Abehin, he already knew the question. And in the midst of this, Abe forgot the most important question he’d have asked.

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Being Icy Cool is a racy, “sepia-tinted” novel of college life. It revolves around Abe, the protagonist, and his two friends, Nilesh and Kanani — their ups and downs… and of growing up beyond the shackles of what's right and what isn't wrong… It also holds a mirror that reflects only one image. Your own — while you're in college! This novel depicts the life and times of avant-garde collegian Abe — his nature, character, progress, metamorphosis and eventual destiny. Abe is the typical boy next door, all right. By the expression, 'boy next door,' you are often tempted to think of a Greek God living secretly for a while — to allow some mysterious curse to wear off. Not Abe, who is effectively a master of underplay. What's more, Abe does not carry a cape and “fly” around the world. He'll also never “fall” for the most beautiful babe in town, even when he's “hypnotized” by her alluring eyes. Why? Because, Abe carries a resolute mind — a mind blessed with imaginative flair… a mind that takes him to the pinnacle of glory and also derision. In other words, Abe is a winner who feels he's a loser… no less.

ISBN 978-81-8372-043-4

9 788183 720434

Fiction

Rs 250