“Are you alive? “Lord Evans asks as he raps at the door. If he doesn’t stop, the bolt is going to come off.
“What the fuck is wrong with every creature who knocks at my door? “I yell, more to myself.
“I have something important to tell you. ”
“You better be telling me that the hottest girl of SOP is waiting for a sizzling lap dance free of cost, and you have sacrificed me your share of divine act. “I shout as I take a look at the image I’m going to put as my profile pic on Facebook. It’s blurred, and my eyebrows are bent at funny angles.
“Kind of. ”
Three seconds later, he is in my room, strectched on my bed like a four legged spider. Stretched on my bed like a four legged tarantula on a matchbox. Like a four legged tarantula who has a gigantic Fabre Castell ruler, which seems very akin to my own accountancy ruler, in his hand.
“It’s six-four. ”
“What? And that ruler seems familiar. ”
“Here, take it. ”
I snatch the ruler from his hand. My secret initials are visible at the end. It’s mine! Oh wait! I drop the ruler almost reflexively, struck breathless by the scary anticipation.
“What is six-four? “I ask, my voice gruffy.
“My penis. It’s not small. You were wrong when you accused I have a small dick. That hurt so bad I couldn’t sleep. I have spent all night memorizing countrywise average penis size on Menxp. I am six-four. I have a Jamaican Penis. “He glows with pride.
Actually, Lord Evans got me to a rip off deal where I purchased vegetable chops for a price 5 times the normal price. So I called him a mindless, physics sucker. Then he started explaining the beauty of Quantum mechanics, so I called him the owner of micropenis. That had him shut up. And now he had come to seek revenge, contaminating my lovely ancient ruler with his dick.
“Did you fucking use my accountancy ruler to scale your penis? “I say, flabbergasted.
“My Jamaican Penis. “He stresses Jamaican, like it’s a sin to not mention the word. “And right now it’s the latest craze in Mansi Niketan. Half a dozen people are measuring their joysticks at this point of time. ”
I at once race to the washroom, turn on the faucet and place my hands under the running water. I squeeze out a giant blob of Dettol handwash and rub my hands together furiously. I’m so apoplectic right now that I am going to explode into shreds. I feel like wearing a surgeon’s gloves and cut off his Jamaican monkey. Did I just hold the ruler he used to…. YUCK. I am going to get my hands sterilized. And I’m definitely going to puke on his head.
“Whaaat? You don’t look awed. “He speaks from outside the door.
“I am. I’m ecstatic about you using my lovely ruler to scale your Jamaican Longfellow. In fact, I feel so honoured that I might offer you a handjob. “I hiss as I open the door to face him squarely.
“What’s your size, little Alex? “He winks at me, “Is it a North Korea? ”
“What’s north korea? “I ask impulsively.
“Three eight. It’s the smallest range of human penis. Rana is a Turkey. Five five. Right now, he is googling penis enlargement devices on my phone. “Lord Evans says. He is so happy talking about dicks.
“What’s the longest? “I blurt out at once.
“Congo. Seven point one inches. And that’s the average. So if you consider the concept “averages hide deviations” we might even see longer penises. I really want to have a congo. ”
Well, me too. Wait! Have you totally lost the plot?? What are you thinking!? You’re supposed to be enraged.
“I think I’ll be slightly better than Turkey. And I’m still growing. Also, I think you are a terrible person. ”
“Penises stop growing after seventeen. Average Indian size is four. “He says, seemingly unaffected by my last statement.
“Dude! “I can’t help but gasp at him, “did you have penispedia for dinner or what!!? ”
“Never. Ever. Call a man small. “He speaks as if his words would, in future, be recited as scriptures. I nod in compliance. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive him for stealing my ruler! I mean who does that? Also, I have to take my own measurement. With other ruler, of course. But first, I have to express my rage.
“What about my..”
“Oh! I’ll wash it. Do not worry. ”
“I don’t think even factory-recycling this ruler would erase the touch of your Jamaican Penis. ”
“It’s midas touch. I’ll buy you one. “He says. “You want to take a stroll through the corridors? ”
Okay. This sounds interesting! Didn’t he say that six people are currently busy taking measurements? I could have made a statistics project on this, had I been in std. XI, and had they accepted a project titled – The Story of Sizes : a survey on penis. You see, this is the kind of educational reform I want. Okay, not this precisely. But preparating pages long Cash Flow Statements isn’t exactly an enthralling project.
The next second, we are assaulting doors like Spanish bulls, and in return, they are calling us the choicest of names. We ask them about their sizes and they are all six, as they vow from the secured confinements behind the bolted doors. When we ask PC, he yells,
“We are not talking about centimeters here, convert it into inches. “Lord Evans deadpans. PC cusses us and tells that he was talking about inches and we could go fuck ourselves with a faucet.
“He is bluffing. I can bet my testicles on that. “Lord Evans declares. I believe him. This stuff is surely going to be the event of the day, and I’m sure, today evening, we are having a debate over penises in Mansi Niketan. That’s what twelfth graders do. They talk about dicks.
After we are done with our survey, which is totally inaccurate since all of them lied, we head towards FCR discussing the actual possible lengths of our lodgemates.
“I’m quite convinced Rana is not a Turkey. I mean he doesn’t look like that. “I say.
“What about you? “Lord Evans scoffs.
“I have the size of a fucking Hentai Monster. ”
“If you’re a Hentai Monster, I’m a Godzilla. I’m a Goliath. I’m Italy’s fucking tower. ”
I do not counter that. There’s no way you could counter that if you have seen Lord Evans. If people are catfishes, he is the blue whale.
I take a mental note to do my own research in my own private time. Nothing else in the life of a male adolescent has ever been of more significance than the length of his manhood. Although I still feel what Lord Evans did was a treacherous act.
As we reach FCR, the stationery shop owner looks at me expectantly. I’ve been buying glossy girlie magazines from him for almost two years now, and that’s the reason he always looks at me expectantly. I don’t like to disappoint people, especially scrawny stationary shop owners who get me five Durjoy Dutta novels for just Five hundred rupees, however, I’m currently broke. I’m so broke that I’m going to order vegetable rolls, which are the cheapest kind of stuffed rolls on the planet. As Lord Evans places orders, I glance at the shop owner, at the stacks of books in the plywood racks, at the sultry magazines hanging from clips, at the twin tables standing tall at FCR, at the sunlight glistening on the road and at the rusted iron gate of Shyamli that leads to JVM, and all of a sudden, tight lumps block my throat. In a few weeks, I’ll leave Ranchi forever.