Grand Masti - Fun Never Ends. Neha Puntambekar

desk, under the teacher. He wanted to call out to Amar and Meet. Wanted to tell them he was right. He wanted to tell them they were right too, the wonder twins were messing with his brain. But mostly he wanted to yell out that he might just get some gulab jal today.

      Wait! Why was he thinking about those two idiots when he finally had the college cannon at his disposal? Amar! Meet! I have the college cannons at my disposal!

      Rose planted her palm on his bare chest and pushed him closer towards the table, and once he was sitting on it, she threw her leg across him, semi straddling him. He slipped his arm around her waist almost immediately, fumbling, securing her to his frame, before pulling her closer, his right leg between both of hers. And her chest was at eye level. He followed its rise and fall. It was the most glorious thing he had ever seen.

      She grabbed his chin and pulled his eye towards her face. “Come on tiger, what are we waiting for?”

      Without wasting any more time Prem reached for that damn bow and gave it a tug. Voila! One pull was all it needed to come loose. Just the one pull, Amar, not two! He should have put some money on that. Her blouse fell open, taking his jaw with it. She was all cream and black lace underneath. He pulled the dangling blouse off and threw it on the floor. Taking a deep breath, he ran his hands across her back and towards the hooks encased in frill. One, two, unhook. Slowly he slid the delicate straps off her shoulders, one at a time. He wanted to plant kisses along her the trail, but he couldn’t bear to pull away from this magical sight unfolding before him. Damn! Gravity had been kind to her.

      His friends were going to hate him. He could almost see their faces. One and two, with jealousy- peaked pouts. All he could do was grin in return. He knew he was behaving like a boy, but as Rose swung her other leg over him and pushed him flat against the table, he felt his control slip. Oh boy! I can’t reach the finish line before the race has begun. He took one deep breath and then another. No, he wouldn’t leave her mid-tango. I will be the student she deserves, he decided. I will get her to scream my name.

      “Prem! Prem! PREM! How many times do I have to tell you to stop wasting my time in this class? PREM! Stop daydreaming.” Ms. Rose sounded angry.

      Her voice pulled Prem out of his fantasy. Amar and Meet were giving him quizzical looks and he caught the sniggers tumbling from around him. Prem looked up to see Ms. Rose standing next to him, by his bench, fully dressed. He was fully dressed too. This was confusing.

      “Do you see this Prem?” Ms. Rose asked him, holding up a sheet; it had an angry red ‘D’ scrawled across it. “Prem, another ‘D’ and you’re failing the class, which means you fail the year,” she continued even as the bell rang in the background.

      As the class, and his friends, filtered out, Prem remained seated, staring at the test paper, before looking back at her. There was that small smile playing along her pink lips again.

      “Listen, Prem, you are such an enthusiastic and … um … gifted young student,” her eyes dipped towards his belt, ever so slightly. “I want to see you succeed. I want to see you come out on top,” she drawled, leaning slightly towards him.

      “Why don’t you join me for a special tutorial class in the staff room after college, huh?” Her voice barely a whisper now, and yet her intentions loud and clear. “I’m sure I could help you improve your skills, and maybe you can share your daydreams with me, maybe we can make them work?”

      Prem was stunned, but he recovered well. He wore a cocky smirk and nodded his head. “That’ll be great Mam. I’ve a few doubts that you might be able to nail.”

      “See, that’s why I like you so much, Prem,” she laughed a rich throaty laugh, running her finger across his face.

      “Thank you, Maam,” he smiled back.

      “Come see me later today, at 3 o’ clock. Don’t be late, Prem, but don’t come too early either.” She walked away, with a little extra something in her sway.

      I won’t. He would work hard and hopefully she’d shower him with all the attention he needed. Prem finally understood the purpose of college and the role of a good, grounded education. His Dad’s words come filtering through: “Prem, everything I know today is because of college. I had such committed teachers; they never gave up till I was perfect. Round after round, in class, through private tuitions, they kept going. Now it’s your turn. Just remember to be attentive.”

      And he would be. He’d be attentive and thorough. After a whole year of being mediocre, Prem had found the perfect incentive to score well, and score he would.

       PART TIME JOBS

      “Never again,” Amar’s voice was a mixture of relief and regret.

      “Never again,” Meet and Prem parroted him.

      “From now on, I will toe the straight line,” Prem added in earnest. “Do you guys know where I can Google stuff like that?”

      “Can’t be too hard, everyone else seems to have stumbled on it,” Meet suggested, “It’s like a template they hand out, I think: study, graduation, find proper jobs.”

      “A proper job? Like in a bank, or something?” Prem asked.

      “Yeah, or something sounds about right,” his friends added, their expressions sombre.

      It had been an exhausting three weeks for the three friends. Of course, they were always broke. What else could be expected of student life? But then they swung from broke to flushed to broke again, from carefree to careworn, from wanted to hunted, from boys to slightly more grown-ups. Some would call these three weeks life changing. Meet, Prem and Amar called it Monday.

      They had blown their allowances on some low grade weed – there literally was more grass in it than anything else, peddled by a six-foot-four, well-built Russian exchange student. Unfortunately, one of him could break all of them, so there was no getting their money back. Despite the hunger pangs, none of them called home for a refuelling. Even idiots like them knew never to poke the angry bear.

      They were passing a packet of Parle G around, savouring every bite, when Prem came up with a solution, another one of his ‘grand ideas’. He was holding open the classified section of a tabloid, grinning like a maniac. “I found it guys, I found a way to have our pot brownies and eat them too.”

      The plan was simple. They’d sign up for slightly risqué jobs – jobs they were guaranteed to love; jobs that’d get them money, honeys, and some masti. What could possibly go wrong?

      Fitness was a passion for Meet. Not too many people knew of his pudgy teen phase, where he was mocked and picked on by the popular kids. After his 10^th exams, he swore he’d never get out of shape again. He was proud of what he had achieved. And he had no qualms about dropping his clothes off to put his work on display.

      He found his perfect job when the professor at an art school told him, “We’ll require you to pose in the nude for an hour every day”.

      The money more than made up for it, but what he really enjoyed was the class full of hot chicks, running their eyes across his frame every day. He hoped in a couple of days he’d be able to convince at least a few of them to explore him a bit more intimately. Really, could he have found a more enjoyable job?

      Prem was born with two right feet. It was true. His mom was fond of saying Prem could dance before he could walk.

      “We cover entertainment at local sangeets, kitty parties, hen parties, that sort of thing,” the events manager told him. “Do you think you can manage?”

      Prem took to it like a fish to water.

      Given his particular brand of charm, he got fast-tracked to kitty parties, and Prem couldn’t be happier. He got to dance for cougars; cougars were his fourth most favourite