C. Bhagat published his first novel Five Point Someone in This book doesn‟t deal with engineering arrogance of the IITians is of full credibility. Five. Five Point Someone Through the story of three friends, the book describes various facets of IIT So, see the world around you and it is full of machines.” A. bsee1book - Get book Five Point Someone by Chetan Bhagat. Full supports all version of your device, includes PDF, ePub and Kindle version. All books.
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The 3 Mistakes of My Life is his third novel. After eleven years in Hong Kong, the author relocated to Mumbai inwhere he works as an investment banker. Apart from books, the author has a keen interest in screenplays and spirituality. Any resemblance to actual persons—living or dead—events or localities is entirely coincidental. This digital edition published in e-ISBN: Chetan Bhagat asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Digital edition prepared by Ninestars Information Technologies Ltd. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, print reproduction, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Any unauthorized distribution of this e-book may be considered a direct infringement of copyright and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. At best, this was my dream. There are people in this world, some of them so wonderful, that made this dream become a product that you are holding in your hand. I would like to thank all of them, and in particular: Shinie Antony — mentor, guru and friend, who taught me the basics of telling a story and stayed with me right till the end.
All of them also stayed with me in the process, and handled me and my sometimes out-of-control emotions so well. Anusha Bhagat — a wife who was once a classmate, and was the first reader of the draft. Apart from being shocked by some of the incidents in the book, she kept her calm as she had to face the tough job of improving the product and not upsetting her husband.
My mom Rekha Bhagat and brother Ketan, two people with an irrational, unbreakable belief in me that bordered on craziness at times.
My relationship with them goes beyond the common genes we share, and I, like every author, needed their irrational support for me. This is a work of fiction, but fiction needs real inspiration. I love them all so much that I could literally write a book on them. Hey wait, have I? My friends in Hong Kong, my work colleagues, my yoga teachers and others that surround me, love me and make life fun. The editor and the entire team at Rupa for being so professional and friendly through the process.
And lastly, it is only when one writes a book that one realizes the true power of MSWord, from grammar checks to replace-alls. It is simple — without this software, this book would not be written. It was kind of creepy. Like a hospital was suddenly asked to pack up and move. Instruments, catheters, drips and a medicine box surrounded two beds.
There was hardly any space for me and Ryan to stand even as Alok got to sprawl out. I guess with thirteen fractures you kind of deserve a bed. Alok lay there unrecognizable, his eyeballs rolled up and his tongue collapsed outside his mouth like an old man without dentures.
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Four front teeth gone, the doctor later told us. It is not a guide on how to live through college. I mean, if they wanted their version out there, they could have written one themselves. But Alok cannot write for nuts, and Ryan, even though he could really do whatever he wants, is too lazy to put his bum to the chair and type. So stuff it boys — it is my story, I am the one writing it and I get to tell it the way I want it.
Also, let me tell you one more thing this book is certainly not. This book will not help you get into IIT. I think half the trees in the world are felled to make up the IIT entrance exam guides. Most of them are crap, but they might help you more than this one will.
All we would say as advice is, if you can lock yourself in a room with books for two years and throw away the key, you can probably make it here. And if your high school days were half as miserable as mine, disappearing behind a pile of books will not seem like such a bad idea. My last two years in school were living hell, and unless you captained the basketball team or played the electric guitar since age six, probably yours were too. I think I have made my disclaimers, and it is time for me to commence.
Five Point Someone by Chetan Bhagat FULL BOOK
Well, I have to start somewhere, and what better than the day I joined the Indian Institute of Technology and met Ryan and Alok for the first time; we had adjacent rooms on the second floor of the Kumaon hostel. As per tradition, seniors rounded us up on the balcony for ragging at midnight. I was still rubbing my eyes as the three of us stood to attention and three seniors faced us. A senior named Anurag leaned against a wall.
Another senior, to my nervous eye, looked like a demon from cheap mythological TV shows — six feet tall, over a hundred kilos, dark, hairy, and huge teeth that were ten years late meeting an orthodontist.
Although he inspired terror, he spoke little and was busy providing background for the boss, Baku, a lungi-clad human toothpick, and just as smelly is my guess. Rascals, who will give an introduction? He was my height, five feet five inches — in short, very short — and had these thick, chunky glasses on. Ryan Oberoi, I repeated his name again mentally.
Relatives abroad for sure, I thought. Nobody wears GAP to bed otherwise.
Five Point Someone by Chetan Bhagat pdf epub free ebook download - Invincible-ebooks
Nakedness made the difference between our bodies more stark as Alok and me drew figures on the floor with deeply embarrassed toes, trying to be casual about our twisted balloon figures. You could describe his body as sculpture. Baku told Alok and me to step forward, so the seniors could have better view and a bigger laugh.
The demon joined him in laughter. Anurag smiled behind a burst of smoke as he extinguished another cigarette, creating his own special effects. Let you go? His eyes were invisible behind those thick, bulletproof spectacles, but going by his contorted face, I could tell he was as close to tears as I was. He and Baku seemed to share a symbiotic relationship; Baku needed him for brute strength, while the servile demon needed him for directions.
Alok and I bent down on all fours. More laughter, this time from above our heads, ensued. The demon suggested racing both of us, his first original opinion in a while but Baku overrode him.
Just wait, I have to go to my room. Meanwhile, the demon made Ryan flex his muscles and make warrior poses. In each of his hands, Baku held an empty Coke bottle. And who the hell are you to ask me? As Baku put the bottles in position, Ryan abandoned his pin-up pose and jumped. Baku released his hands and the bottles were with Ryan, James Bond style.
Each bottle now was butt-broken, and he waved the jagged ends in air. Baku and the demon retreated a few paces. Anurag, who had been smouldering in the backdrop, snapped to attention. How did this happen? What is your name - Ryan, take it easy man. This is just fun. I was hoping Ryan knew what he was doing. I mean sure, he was saving our ass from a Coke bottle, but broken Coke bottles could be a lot worse. Actually, he was shuffling backward slowly and steadily till he was almost flying in his haste to get away, the demon following suit.
Anurag stood there gaping at Ryan for a while and then looked at us. Alok and I got up and wore our clothes. There is a reason why they say men should not cry, they just look so, like, ugly.
That Baku guy is sick. Though you think they would have done anything? Trust me, I have lived in enough boarding schools. Besides, we were hostelite neighbours and in the same engineering department. They say you should not get into a relationship with people you sleep with on the first date.
But our troika was kind of inevitable. As we entered the amphitheatre-shaped lecture room, we grabbed a pile of handouts each. The instructor sat next to the blackboard like a bloated beetle, watching us settle down, waiting for the huddled murmurs to cease. He appeared around forty years of age, with gray hair incandescent from three tablespoons of coconut oil, wore an un-tucked light blue shirt and had positioned three pens in his front pocket, along with chalks, like an array of bullets.