Often, the trigger was Naik, a third year chemistry student, who lived in the room right below Viya’s. Naik was a teetotaler. He usually knocked on Viya’s door at around midnight with the same plaintive request: ‘Hey Viya, do you have a new pondy, man?’ More often than not, Viya obliged. The quality of the present depended on his mood. If he was stoned and happy, he’d lovingly dig out a rare Brazilian Playboy and if stoned and paranoid, palm off a badly printed copy of The Human Digest. Naik didn’t really care either way. All in all, he was a good-natured guy, always content with whatever he got, as long as it was for free.

One night Bloody was sitting in Viya’s room reading the Times of India. Naik had just left, clutching a rolled-up copy of Playboy with a Drew Barrymore centrespread—an issue that was much in demand.

After Naik’s departure, the conversation veered towards masturbation techniques. Viya insisted there was no right formula. For instance, if time was scarce, say you wanted a five minute, stress-busting quickie before an exam or an interview, it was best to grip the base of the penis and pull the foreskin back rather than rub the entire shaft.

Bloody was usually cautious in company. He was an extremely self-conscious person, always worried he might say something stupid in public. Today, listening to Viya’s expert comments, something came over him and he said, ‘I don’t know about you guys but when I was growing up, I would often use a bolster-sholster. I’d wait for my parents to leave the house, then grab one from the drawing room.’

Everybody in the room cracked up on hearing Bloody’s candid confession. It could have been the earnest tone. It could have been the image of fourteen-year-old Bloody riding a bolster like a sledge. Whatever it was, there was pandemonium in the room. Viya laughed so hard his eyes started to water.

Now, Bloody, for all his muscle-building, was a sensitive bloke. Not finding anything funny in what he had said, he marched out of the room, promising never to return.

Bloody was also a man of his word. After the bolster incident, he kept his distance. Since the two were neighbours, they still maintained cordial relations but Bloody never went to Viya’s room if he could avoid it.

Bloody had a classmate called Robert. Clean-shaven and god-fearing, Robert was seeing Ashawari, an English (Hons) beauty. They were from the same Calcutta school and were rumoured to have been together for the last four years. Robert had been head boy of his school and was tipped to stand for college elections in his final year. The plan, as Robert never tired of telling his friends, was to become marketing head of a multinational corporation, marry Ashawari and live happily ever after.