‘I’m a gamer without talent, Gaurav. So, of course, I think what you do is cool.’
I show him the screenshots of the best comments on his gameplay on various Reddit threads. ‘Reddit thinks you’re the next big thing, but I was the one who spotted you, remember?’ I point out. ‘I remember how you rocked Elastico in FIFA like it was child’s play. And you were a child.’
His face softens. ‘Even if I meet Didi, they wouldn’t get it.’
‘Did you hear that?’ Sameer butts in. ‘Now get out, Uncle—’
I turn towards him and bend down to meet his eye. ‘I’m going to break your arm and shove it up your asshole. Good luck gaming with one hand.’
‘Sameer, go home,’ Gaurav instructs him and he scurries away, grumbling.
I step towards Gaurav. ‘Look Gaurav, running away is not an option. They don’t care that you stole. Even I didn’t care that you stole. You know why? Because you deserved that Nintendo more than I did. Now, all you need to do is show them you can make something out of gaming. That it’s worth it.’
He shakes his head. ‘They won’t—’
‘Stop being negative,’ I cut him. ‘And don’t kill my vibe. My one-legged, clinically depressed father got up this morning, smiled and is taking his daughter to school, so literally anything can happen today. So now, show me your set-up and what you’re doing to make this a legitimate thing.’
Gaurav leads me to the bedroom that he has converted into a gaming hub. Multiple glowing PCs are stacked, cables are managed neatly, screens beam images of games, tutorials. Gaurav is the team leader of their gaming group, Phoenix Rising, a gaming team that specializes inWar of Worlds—a multiplayer RPG,DotAandCounter-Strike. Unlike what I had imagined—he would be living in filth—it’s like an organized military bunker.
There’s no TV. No filth.
‘You own the team?’
‘Daksh—’
‘You call me Daksh or dude or bro one more time and I am going to throttle you. Call me Bhaiya.’
He shrinks and nods dutifully. ‘Bhaiya, I own the equipment, the house rental is in my name. My team members can’t afford these . . .’ he points at the set-up. ‘So they come here and we train here.’
‘Is your team any good? Because in the games you’re playing, you’re only as good as your team.’
‘Bhaiya, I can’t afford good players. They will take too much out of the winnings if we win any,’ he explains. ‘So I’m training them to be good. They will get there.’
‘Smart,’ I tell him. ‘Never thought I would use that word for you.’
‘You don’t even know me.’
‘I know that you dive-tackled a lot in FIFA when you last played. Dribbled too much, played the same plays . . . That’s not an experience problem, that’s a gamer problem. I hope you have fixed that,’ I tell him. ‘Do you have a YouTube channel?’
Gaurav shakes his head.
‘You need to have a YouTube channel, multiple social media accounts and their back-ups, a company on paper where you’re the owner. You need to register that name too. How can you not know all of this?’
He nods distractedly. I notice he’s elsewhere. ‘How’s Didi?’ he asks softly. All the bravado about not caring about his family is now gone. I can see he misses them terribly.
‘We’re going to see her. We will go see her and then get her here to see you’re serious about this stuff.’
21.
Aanchal Madan
It hasn’t even been a year and yet it feels like Gaurav was lost at sea and is returning to me after a decade. He looks skinnier, haggard, but happier than the last time I saw him. He was probably the only person who wasn’t happy on his first day of college. He carried that morose expression and funereal gloom through the three years he studied there. Deep dark circles appeared behind his spectacles, and he spoke less and less. He never scored well, talked little and spent most of his time on his laptop. And yet, his running away came as a shock to us. I never thought he had it in him. He was just . . . my little brother. Sometimes there’s a very fine line between courage and foolishness.
Vanita and I are in the auto following Daksh’s scooter to where Gaurav lives now. It’s strange and borderline terrifying to know that he lives all on his own. All these years, he had needed us for everything.
‘I can’t believe Daksh found Gaurav quicker than I did,’ grumbles Vanita. ‘Guess sex is a greater motivator than friendship.’
‘That argument goes against you. The only reason Gaurav was talking to you was . . . well,’ I point out. ‘And in Daksh’s case, he’s not getting sex. He didn’t go find him because . . . you know . . . sex.’
