Part One: The
Question Paper
“The black car screeched across
the dark street. A door opened, and a black bag was thrown out of the
car, which neither stopped, nor ever slowed down”.
Rahul read the short paragraph again,
and sent a curse floating silently up in the air. He was supposed to
write a story based on the paragraph above, for his English exam, and
to see the unimaginative story starter included in the question paper
seemed not only asinine, but also an insult to his powers of
imagination and his intelligence.
His predicament was one borne out of
the sheer desire to excel- he wanted to be a famous writer, and
somewhere in his head, he had the odd notion that if he could score
perfect in the exam, a feat not yet achieved in the history of the
college, his immense talent would be recognised immediately.
He had hoped that he would get a topic
for a story that would prove to be an impossible challenge for his
peers, yet for him, it would present an opportunity to show his
imagination, his immense vocabulary, and his sheer genius as a master
story-teller with the ability to turn a most mundane event into an
intriguing thriller.
Of course, being presented with the
rather mundane beginning in the paper, his high hopes had given way
to doubt. The topic seemed too mundane for him to stoop down to its
level and write what would at best be considered pulp fiction. Be
that as it may, he still couldnt deny the fact that no matter what
his feelings were about the intellectual merit of the story-starter,
and the moral choice of stooping down to its level, he still had to
write a story based on it which would firmly establish his position
as the best writer. Not only this, he had to show case all his
talents in the story, something which had seemed so easy, but felt
impossible to achieve.
Part Two: The Unexpected Visitor
His train of thoughts ran far from the
tracks, and yet, he had caught only a fleeting glimpse of the perfect
story. That, and what appeared to his eyes like a familiar face, a
face which he saw in the mirror everyday, but one which had been
staring in the mirror for far longer. His eyes focussed, and he
realised that the face was still there, only now it also had a body
attached to it.
“Please do not be afraid of me. I
mean you no harm, but I have come here to give you help in your dire
need” said the man.
Rahul looked at him in wonder.
“It's just that you seem so much like
me- he stopped mid sentence, and added “and why is no one noticing
you talking to me? This is an exam you know”
“you won't believe me, but I am you-
although, I come from another universe than yours. The reason why no
one can see me, or hear me is that I can only manifest myself as an
electrical field that is synchronised to your brain's though
process”
“let me get this right- you've
travelled across an entire paralell universe as an electric field
just so you can help me with my English exam? This was beginning to
sound like a bad movie plot already, damn.
“Well, more or less, except the part
about travelling as an electrical field- that'd be impossible, i'm
afraid. I have other means which involve more complicated science
like quantum entanglement, but I digress. I'm sure you would have
read about it, because I did, when I was your age, and I guess you
can figure out how that works. No, the real reason why I came here
today is to make sure that you ace the exam, beacuse after today,
your written word would be religion across all universes and bring
peace. Scientists would find theories that defy all known data about
the universe, yet are irrefutable. Mystics would find immortatlity,
and universal peace and enlightenment, concepts unimaginable by your
contemporaries, would be achived in the blink of an eye. Such is the
power of your word, all balanced on whether you ace the paper today
or not.
Part Three: Self Doubt
“ That might have happened in your
universe, but I'm fairly sure it won't happen here By the looks of
it, there's no chance I can write a story on this drivel so you might
as well give up on world peace.
“I had expected this. Self Doubt is
our worse enemy. I beat it though, at the same time as you, and I had
someone to help me too, just like I'm here today, to help you. We
know there's only one Universe in which you didn't write this story
today- you wrote it many years later, and posted it on the
'internet'. I hope it was your universe, beacuse if I'm wrong, then,
well, then we won't know how to fix it.”
“Internet?- I post it on the
internet? With my bandwidth, I'd be lucky to check my email.
“Well, one day, you'd be streaming
movies and downloading games off the internet- that's one good thing
in the future at least: the internet moves much faster now, though
you still have to deal with FUP, and don't ask me what that is-
you'll find out soon enough”
“Alright, I believe you. I have one
little issue though- if I do this with your help, I'll be cheating on
my exam, won't I?”
“No, you won't. Asking yourself is
not cheating in any way. In any case, I'm not here to help you with
the story, I'm just here to tell you that you have done it before,
and you can do it again, and that my younger self, is all the help
you're going to need”.
Rahul wasn't entirely convinced, though
he had to admit, he felt refreshed in a strange way. The self-doubt
was still there, but it wasn't as ominous as it had seemed before.
All he needed now was a mind boggling story, and a gameplan. The
story that had eluded him for so far, seemed within reach, and out of
the mists in his mind, a shape began to take form.
**
Mr. Carville wasn't sure exactly what
he'd read. The college kept the identity of the teachers assigned to
assess examination papers absolutely secret to avoid any chance of
foul play. Yet, in the paper that he was assessing at the moment,
tucked in the middle of the story was his name, along with a
paragraph about the policy of the college to not divulge the identity
of the examiner. As if this wasn't puzzling enough, the story that
the boy had written seemed to border on prescience, and this wasn't
the only odd thing with the story.
The story felt as if it had been
written by someone who was intellectually more advanced than a boy of
twelve, someone who had a vocabulary that was far more extensive than
a boy of twelve, and the diction betrayed a thought process that
seemed much more focussed and fluent than what he'd seen in all his
years as an English teacher. All this wasn't as shocking as the
realisation that the story-teller, or the boy, had an uncanny knack
of predicting what was running in Mr. Carville's mind, and by some
sheer coincidence, the story mentioned it at exactly the precise
moment at which he was thinking about this very peculiarity.
He decided he would suspend his
disbelief for the moment, and focus on reading the entire story, true
or not, coincidental or intentional, it was captivating nonetheless.
**
Part Four: The Plot Thickens
Rahul chuckled to himself. Mr. Carville
would have no doubt found the story a compelling read- all he had to
do was to convince him that it deserved a straight A, and he already
knew what to do,
He had already demonstrated his skills
with words (he had deliberately used words that a boy of his age
wouldn't normally know, and although he hadn't been able to use
'sigmoid' and 'uxorius' as he had hoped he would, to impress Mr.
Carville, but he would find a way somehow. )
His diction was impeccable, but that
was an easy task, especially since he was used to using rather long
sentences, and because he had been parctising writing 'in the stream
of consciousness' for a long time. Who knew reading beat authors (a
rather obscure genre of writers, for the standard of his peers, and
for most of his teachers as well, including Mr. Carville.) would help
him out today?
He had demonstrated the powers of his
imagination- what twelve year boy could write a story about a boy who
receives help with his English exam from an older version of himself
from another universe?
There was just one flaw, and it was a
big one-His story wasn't technically a story. He was treading on a
very fine line between a narrative and a story.In the end, it would
be up to Mr. Carville to decide what it really was. It was a risk,
but like all great writers, Rahul had a twist in the tale planned
already, and he was betting on Mr. Carville's curiosity to tide him
through.
**
Mr. Carville's bewilderment rose to a
crescendo. So far, everything seemed to be happening as the boy had
said it would happen in his story. His interest was piqued, and he
was in the grip of a spell he couldnt overcome. As he thought this,
he was even more bewildered when the story pointed out his state of
mind in almost the same words as he had heard in his mind. This
definitely wasn't the work of an average schoolboy. This was
something else altogether.
He decided to make a list of all the
odd things with the story, and he was presented with yet another
surprise. Right after where he'd left of reading the story was an
innocuous sentence:
“He decided to make a list of all the
odd things with the story, and he was presented with yet another
surprise.” This was most curious. The boy seemed to know his very
thoughts, and he kept referring to him by his name, almost mocking
him, or flattering him. The boy knew him so well that he used the
same words Mr.Carville used in his head.
Mr. Carville began listing out all the
oddities in his head. First, the boy's uncanny ability to understand
the reader's mind, then his his way with words- it wouldn't be
exaggeration by any means to say that the boy was a veritable
thesauraus, and the Unabridged Oxford English Dictionary all rolled
into one. Thirdly, the diction- whereas he was used to reading
half-formed sentences that somehow were bolted together in an
unimaginative way to form the trappings of a rudimentary story or
essay, this was eons ahead in terms of style and content. The boy
seemed to have an advanced understanding of story writing, narrative
techniques, and wrote in a curious style of writing which he claimed
was 'writing in the stream of consciousness' and about which he
himself had never heard about.
Lastly, the boy was even aware that his
story might not pass off as a story in the first place- he had given
proof of his awareness about it in the story itself. In fact, the
whole story seemed to be contrived so as to demonstrate his skills as
a writer. He found his thoughts digressing, and he realised he had
stopped midway in the story. He quickly started reading from where
he'd left off, and was surprised once more- the story hadn't really
moved forward from the point he'd wandered off in his thoughts. It
was as if the story would move forward only when he read it, and
curiously still, this was mentioned in the story as well, right at
the end of the paragraph which described his state of mind.
**
Part Five: Denouement
Rahul was satisfied. He was nearing the
end of his story, and he was sure that Mr. Carville would be only
too eager to reach the climax. He just had a little more to write,
and needed to flesh out the ending a little bit. If everything worked
according to plan, Mr. Carville would be occupied for many days upon
reading his story, busy contemplating the questions the story raised.
Of course, Rahul hadn't really decided what questions his story would
raise right upto this moment, but he was probably going to slip
something in towards the end.
**
Mr. Carville now paid even greater
attention as he could see that the story was nearings it's end. He
chuckled to himself when he used 'story' in his head- maybe the boy
had already convinced him that it was a story and not a narrative.
This had to be a masterpice. The boy had written a unique piece
unlike any that he'd seen before, and he had demonstrated all the
qualities that were expected of a great writer in a most intriguing
manner, but why? Somehow, he felt that this entire exercise had to
serve a far better purpose than just getting a perfect score. Sure,
with the boy's skill, he could have written an entirely different
story to the same effect, yet he chose to write something far
riskier, and that felt to him a desperate attempt. He paused,
realising that he taking the story much more seriously than it
probably was. Yet, this story went beyond what it's apparent purpose
was- the boy had made a lot of effort to make the story seem 'real',
but why? He paused again, this time calculating the consequences of
the story being true, even though it seemed such a stupid thing to
think of, but then, there was still a little bit more to read before
he could finish the story.
**
Epilogue:
The older Rahul read the finished
story, while his younger self observed his expressions with no small
amount of satisfaction. At last, he put the answer sheet down and sat
with apparent content.
“i'm sure Mr. Carville will give you
a perfect score on this, no doubt about that.”
“I still have some doubt, but not
about my score though” said the younger Rahul.
“Doubts? About what? “
“Well, I'm still not sure whether Mr.
Carville thinks if this is just a story, or if he believes what I've
written to be true. What happened in your universe? Did he believe
you or not ?”
“He gave me a perfect score, but I
never found out if he believed it or not. Maybe, in this universe,
your Mr. Carville will, who knows...”
