D-Day : the day Delhi University released the first Cut Off.

My mother recoiled in shock, as if someone just mentioned that onions have suddenly disappeared from earth.


Today morning, I was jolted off my bed by a pair of hands that had long red nails. I was about to shriek, however, I stopped myself, as the limbs ended to shoulders that carried a face very similar to my own mother. Sweet Jesus Christ! What sort of human possesses long red nails!
Women, came to my mind.
My mother stood before me, and her face donned an expression that she usually makes when there is a snakecharmar displaying cobras on the streets, or when she has to tell that Ginni Mausi got pregnant, yet again.
“It’s the day! “She squealed.
Ginni mausi is giving you another cousin!!! Isn’t that amazing!
“Cut off! They. Have. Released. The. Cut. Off. Wake up you slughead Kumbhkaran. ”
“Cut off? “I asked, just to be sure. She nodded.
“Yeah. So? “I spoke through a giant yawn.
I stretched myself for a while  and grabbed the phone from the rack, preparaing myself for the sight of a spectacular collection of fuck-all figures. The network sucked despite this place being the capital of the country, and after a decade of watching the blue line inching painfully towards the rightmost corner of my screen, thus opening the page that took me to DU website and allowed me to download the cut off list, I exhaled and crashed on my bed. My mother didn’t like the idea of me falling back on the bed, so she, for the second time, referred to me as a slughead Kumbhakaran. She quite likes the idea of comparing me to monsters and insects and vegetables.
Anyway, I opened the pdf file and scanned through the list. I didn’t need to, though.
“What is it? What is it? Which course did you get in? “My mother asked, dying to listen that her son made it to St. Stephens or equivalents.
What exactly is a nice way of saying, “no maa, I’m not getting any college. “???
“These are all ninety plus, maa. “I said, only to see her ever-bright face dim a shade. I hate myself when that happens.
“Look carefully, son. Go wash your face, and then take a look. “She suggested. Had washing my face caused miracles, I’d have attached a wash basin to my chest. I scoured through English cut offs. Holy SantaClaus!
“I am looking carefully. 96 for English. ”
My mother recoiled in shock, as if someone just mentioned that onions have suddenly disappeared from earth.
“96, did you say!!!???”
I nodded.
“When I was in college, they took you in for English just like that. “She snapped her fingers.
“It’s DU. Not BNMU. ”
“Whatever. What’s for commerce? ”
“99.25. “I declared.
“Are they crazy? “My mother gaped at me.
“I don’t know for sure. ”
“Let me check. You are still sleepy. Go wash your face.  “She snatched my phone. There’s always a significant risk involved in handing over your phone to your mother, especially when you don’t browse in incognito, so I just sat there, making sure she only sees the cut offs.
Her face kept changing colors as she scrolled through the enormous list. She went back to the top and scrolled it back again, and I felt like shooting myself in the head. Am I not a disappointment already?
“Why are these so high? “She asked rhetorically.
Because of people like Ginni mausi who can’t stop producing kids for the love of God. Because of Modi and Manmohan and every prime minister before, and because of you the grown-ups and because of us, the nutsack teenagers. Everyone has to be blamed for me not deserving a seat in DU.
“Hey! “My mother’s eyes sparkled momentarily, as she said,”umm..it’s sixty percent for Sanskrit. ”
I stared at her, gobsmacked.
“Could you claim a seat and later change the course? “She had so much of hope in her eyes, I felt like telling her, ‘yes, maa it’s such a brilliant idea.’ But DU people are not third graders who could be duped by her tactics. 
“No. “I said as I snatched my phone back and locked the screen. I was fed up by now.
As I went to the wash basin and splattered the rancid water on my face, I heard her shouting in the background,
“I think we should get it printed out. Maybe, then, we could find a seat or something. ”
“Yeah. We would. Why don’t you stop using red nailpaints instead? Maybe that would find me a seat.” I yelled back.
To that, I didn’t get an answer.

Author: ravish raj

● 17yearoldboy ● capricorn ● artist ● pornaholic ● Historian ● Googlebhakt ● storyteller ● procrastinator ● virgin ● 1600+ in bullet @ chess.com ● Bihar se hain 😎 ●

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