The Attendance Scam

Late Entry

Aarav Mehra ne North Campus ke main gate ke bahar khade- khade apne phone pe attendance portal khola. Red warning blink kar rahi thi: attendance short by 11 classes. 11. Jaise koi simple number ho, lekin uske liye woh almost death sentence tha.

“Bhai, isse toh semester gaya,” usne khud se bola aur cigarette ki bheed mein se ek gehri saans kheench li. November ki thandi Delhi hawa mein Kamla Nagar ka traffic horn, momo stall ka steam, aur gate ke bahar auto-wale ka “North Campus, North Campus” ek hi frame mein ghul raha tha.

Us din woh ek aur useless lecture skip karke aaya tha. Useless isliye nahi ki subject boring tha—boring toh tha hi—but because professor ne pichhle do hafte se wahi PPT padh di thi jo students pehle hi WhatsApp par dekh chuke the. Aarav ko lag raha tha college uska time kha raha hai, aur attendance uska future.

Woh gate ke paas khada tha, phone scroll karte hue, jab usne notice kiya ki har dusra student kisi na kisi “yaar, proxy lagwa de” mode mein tha. Koi senior ko call kar raha tha, koi section ka schedule pooch raha tha, koi “double period mein aa jaa bas” ka jugad kar raha tha.

Aarav ne aankh uthakar campus ki building dekhi, phir phone screen pe apni short attendance list.

“Proxy dene ke liye agar itna network chahiye,” usne dheere se bola, “toh isko organized kyun na kar diya jaaye?”

Uske dimag mein pehli baar scam ka shape aaya. Par usse scam kam aur system optimization zyada laga.

Woh seedha scammer nahi banna chahta tha. Usko lagta tha woh college ke broken logic ko beat kar raha hai. Aur honestly, uska confidence itna tha ki usne yeh bhi maan liya ki agar students ko solution chahiye, toh woh solution ka founder kyun na ho?

Usi shaam Kamla Nagar ke ek crowded café ke corner mein, jahan woh part-time shift karta tha, Aarav ne ek rough spreadsheet banayi. Section, timing, subject, professor mood, proxy risk, entry gate, exit gate. Aisa lag raha tha jaise attendance nahi, kisi stock exchange ka model bana raha ho.

Usne file ka naam rakha: Proxy Attendance Ka Startup.

Aur usne pehli baar apne aap ko hansa hua mehsoos kiya.

First Client

Mehak Bansal ko Aarav ne pehli baar canteen ke bahar dekha tha. South Delhi se commute karti thi, hair bun tight, tote bag shoulder pe, aur face pe woh expression jo har journalism student ko hota hai—“main sab dekh rahi hoon, aur mujhe sab fake lag raha hai.”

Woh internship ke liye campus se nikalti bhi rehti thi aur classes attend bhi karni padti thi. Ek din uska phone vibe hua.

“Proxy chahiye?” Aarav ne bas itna message bheja tha, ek mutual group se number nikaal ke.

Mehak ka reply aaya: “Tumhara number kisne diya?”

“Campus ne.”

“Matlab?”

“Matlab campus mein sab data hai. Bas access chahiye.”

Woh pehle annoyed hui. Phir do din baad same issue: reporting deadline, internship meeting, aur attendance short. Usne Aarav ko campus ke back gate ke paas milne ko bola.

Aarav jab aaya, toh Mehak ne bina intro ke seedha poocha, “Kitna reliable hai?”

“Zyada than college,” Aarav ne answer diya.

“Ethically questionable hai.”

“Tum journalism karti ho, tumhe real cost pata honi chahiye.”

Mehak ne usko ek look diya. “Aur tumhe?”

“Main toh victim hoon.”

Woh hansi nahi, par uske lips ke kone thode hil gaye.

Transaction simple tha. Naam, section, subject, timing. Aarav ne ek slot assign kiya. Mehak ne cash nahi diya—UPI se paise bheje, aur saath mein likha, “Agar pakde gaye toh main tumhe nahi jaanti.”

Aarav ne reply kiya, “Same.”

Par jab uska attendance next week update hua, aur class rep ne casually bola “kaam ho gaya kya?”, Mehak ke andar kuch click hua. Ye bas ek random favour nahi tha. Ye ek service thi. Efficient. Clean. Almost elegant.

Aur Aarav ke liye, jo ab tak apne aap ko jugadu samajhta tha, yeh pehli baar lag raha tha ki uska jugaad kisi ko genuinely useful lag raha hai.

Us raat un dono ne café ke pichhle corner mein baithkar ek aur spreadsheet kholi.

“Slots ka pattern banana padega,” Mehak boli. “Randomness chahiye, warna suspicious ho jayega.”

Aarav ne eyebrows uthayi. “Tum toh ethics ki champion ho.”

“Main practical hoon. Ethics ka bill baad mein aata hai.”

Aarav ne laptop turn kiya. “Toh product build karein?”

Mehak ne screen dekhi, phir usko. “Haan. But agar karna hai, toh proper karte hain.”

Aur yahin se scam ka naam startup hua.

Campus Algorithm

Do hafton mein unka system campus ke kisi hidden logistics engine ki tarah chalne laga. Aarav ne Google Sheets, WhatsApp broadcast, Telegram groups, aur ek shared form se pura network set kiya. Mehak ne class timings aur professor habits ka database banaya. Kaun roll call jaldi leta hai, kaun late aata hai, kaun section mix-up se confuse hota hai, kaun attendance ke pehle notes baantne mein busy ho jaata hai.

North Campus ka ek complete shadow map ban gaya.

Canteen ke corner mein do laptops khule rehte. Aarav ek taraf proxy slots manage karta, Mehak dusri taraf “risk score” update karti. Kabhi koi student last minute cancel karta, kabhi koi extra class aa jaati, kabhi kisi ka friend “bhai mujhe bhi add kar de” bolta.

“Slots book ho rahe hain jaise movie tickets,” Mehak ne ek din bola.

“Movie nahi,” Aarav ne kaha. “Survival.”

Unka dashboard ridiculous tha. “9:00 AM English Honours, Section B, Gate 3 safe, Professor late by 7 mins.” “11:40 Sociology, Section A, proxy rotation 3-day cycle.” “Friday, avoid because Nandini Sethi visits attendance committee.”

Aur irony ye thi ki jitni discipline se woh system chal raha tha, utni discipline college ke official attendance portal mein nahi thi. College ki machine random thi. Unka jugad reliable.

Students khush the. Attendance improved. Panic kam hua. Group chats mein unka naam bina naam ke phailne laga—“wo attendance wala link”, “North campus ka system”, “Aarav ka setup”.

Mehak ko yeh sab deeply uncomfortable lagta tha, lekin woh same time pe proud bhi thi. Woh jab bhi “this is morally grey” bolti, uske ek minute baad wahi spreadsheet mein next slot fill kar rahi hoti.

Aarav ko validation mil raha tha. Jo log usko pehle class bunker samajhte the, ab uski planning pooch rahe the. Wo campus ke beech chalne laga toh log usse “bro ek slot” aur “bata na kaise manage kar raha hai” kehkar rukate.

Usko ye sab achha lagta tha. Bahut achha.

Shayad isliye kyunki pehli baar woh control mein tha.

Mentor Deal

Kabir “K.K.” Khan ne unko canteen ke bahar dekha. Hostel ka senior, blazer-style jacket, calm smile, aur aisi aankhen jo har cheez ko pehle measure karti thi, phir value deti thi. Campus mein uska network sabko pata tha, par uske source koi nahi poochta tha.

Usne Aarav ko side mein le jaakar bola, “Sun, tum log sirf attendance nahi manage kar rahe. Tum log demand-supply solve kar rahe ho.”

Aarav ne suspicious look diya. “Aur tum kaun ho?”

“K.K.,” usne halka sa smile diya. “Short for convenience.”

Mehak side mein khadi thi, arms crossed. “Convenience usually expensive hota hai.”

Kabir ne uski taraf dekha. “Smart girl. Isliye tum dono ko track kiya.”

Aarav ka face tight ho gaya. “Track?”

“Relax,” Kabir bola. “I’m not here to expose. I’m here to scale.”

Woh dono usko dekhte reh gaye.

Kabir ne canteen ki noise ke beech apni pitch shuru ki, jaise koi startup investor ho. “Tumhara model campus ke bahar bhi chalega. Nearby colleges, hostels, even societies. Canteens mein coffee tie-up, hostel networks mein micro-operations. Main distribution dunga. Tum product rakho.”

Aarav ka dil ek second ke liye tez dhadka. Scale. Distribution. Expansion. Sab words usko kaafi sexy lage. Usko laga ab uska jugaad actual business ban gaya.

“Commission?” Mehak ne seedha poocha.

Kabir ne bina jhijhak bola, “Obviously. Deal ke bina network ka kya fayda?”

“Kitna?”

“Jo fair ho. Student welfare ke hisaab se.”

Mehak ne ek thanda sa laugh diya. “Student welfare ka phrase bolke kaam karta hai?”

Kabir ne shrug kiya. “Campus mein sab wahi bolke kaam karte hain.”

Aarav ne usse dekha aur pehli baar socha ki yeh banda help kar raha hai ya apna cut nikaal raha hai. Par us waqt usko bas itna dikha ki uske idea ko real push mil sakta hai.

Deal ho gayi.

Kabir ne unhe contacts diye, WhatsApp forwards, hostel boys, canteen staff, even ek do society coordinators. Uska naam bas reference mein aata tha. Har jagah thoda charm, thoda pressure, thoda “main tumhare liye kar raha hoon”.

Aur Aarav ko lagne laga ki woh founder hai.

Visible Success

Phir service viral ho gayi.

Campus mein log punctual hone lage. Not because they became responsible—because their attendance was booked like slots. Classes ke pehle group chats mein reminders aate: “9 baje bio, proxy already assigned.” “English mein Professor 10 min late hoti hain, entry after 9:07.” “Aaj Nandini Sethi alert, no noise.”

Aarav aur Mehak ke chhote se canteen corner ko log almost office bolne lage. Ek whiteboard aa gaya, phir sticky notes, phir printed attendance matrix. Coffee cups, pen caps, charger wires, aur half-eaten samose ke beech ek mini enterprise ka illusion janam le chuka tha.

Aarav ko woh illusion pasand tha.

Mehak ko success pasand tha, but uska guilt bhi utna hi active tha. Woh jab internship ke liye headline likhti, tab uske dimag mein ye bhi aata ki woh khud ek aur headline ban sakti hai—“college proxy racket busted.”

Kabir aur zyada involved ho gaya. Har naye connection pe uska smile thoda aur wide hota. “Nice,” woh bolta. “Hum scale kar rahe hain.”

“HUM?” Mehak ek baar bol padi.

Kabir ne bilkul casually kaha, “Haan, hum. Ecosystem.”

Aarav ne usko correct nahi kiya. Usse laga, maybe yeh hi toh business hai. He was no longer just surviving. He was building.

Par phir complaints aani shuru hui.

Ek professor ne bola, “Same students ka face repeatedly dikh raha hai.”

Ek class rep ne jealousy mein complaint ki, “Attendance system manipulated ho raha hai.”

Ek junior ne slot miss karke bol diya, “Main toh payment kar chuka tha.”

Aur campus mein kisi ne anonymous mail bhej diya: “Proxy attendance network operating through student intermediaries.”

Aarav ko pehli baar laga ki success ka noise bhi dangerous hota hai.

The Audit

Professor Nandini Sethi ko pehle din se students se zyada patterns pe bharosa tha. Woh class mein attendance leti toh bas naam nahi, micro-expression bhi note karti. Kaun aankh nahi mila raha, kaun hamesha dusre ke baad bolta, kaun har Monday present aur Friday absent.

Aur phir usne ek weird thing notice ki.

Same face. Different sections. Same timing windows. Same excuses.

Pehle usne socha coincidence. Phir spreadsheet jaisa pattern. Phir campus movement ka uncanny rhythm.

Woh attendance committee ki meeting mein chup rahi, par uski file growing thi.

Ek din class mein roll call lete hue usne ek student ka naam bola jo uske saamne physically present tha, par attendance portal mein last week dusre section ke liye marked tha. Student ne palatkar ek second extra saans li, aur Nandini Sethi ko wahi second kaafi tha.

Usne bas itna kaha, “Interesting.”

Class freeze ho gayi.

Baad mein jab woh office corridor se guzri, usne notice kiya ki canteen ke side wali bench pe Aarav aur Mehak kisi laptop pe kaam kar rahe hain. Kabir thoda door khada tha, phone pe baat karta hua.

Nandini Sethi ne unhe approach nahi kiya. Bas dekha.

Aur us moment mein usko samajh aa gaya ki yeh bachche bas cheating nahi kar rahe the. Yeh ek parallel system chala rahe the—slow, messy, but functional. College ka official system rigid tha, aur student system uski jagah leta ja raha tha.

Usne apni file band ki.

Iska matlab ye bhi tha ki college ka rule kitna broken tha. Aur ye bhi ki students kitne desperate ho chuke the.

Investigation formal hui. Random attendance checks. CCTV logs. Entry gate verification. Section-wise cross-matching.

Campus mein panic spread ho gaya.

Mehak ka face pehli baar genuinely pale lag raha tha. “Maine bola tha,” usne Aarav se kaha, “yeh ethically sustainable nahi hai.”

Aarav ne jaw tight rakhte hue bola, “Ab lecture mat de.”

“Main lecture nahi de rahi. Main calculate kar rahi hoon.”

“Kaise bachenge?”

Mehak ne usko dekha. “Pata nahi.”

Kabir ne us din unusually calm tone mein kaha, “Relax. Main handle kar lunga.”

Aarav ne uspar trust kar liya. Yeh uski sabse badi galti thi.

Collapse or Choice

Jab crackdown aaya, Kabir pehle gayab hua. Phir uska message aaya: “Meet me behind Arts Faculty.”

Aarav aur Mehak gaye. Wahan Kabir already khada tha, phone haath mein.

“Listen,” usne bola, “committee ko kuch leads mil gayi hain. Main apna naam clean rakhunga. Tum dono bhi agar smart ho, toh direct link mat lena.”

Mehak ne usko ghoor ke dekha. “Matlab?”

Kabir ne shrug kiya. “Matlab network decentralized tha. No single point of failure.”

Aarav ko samajh aa gaya. Yeh mentor deal nahi thi. Yeh shield deal thi—jab tak paisa aur influence mil raha tha, Kabir saath tha. Ab jab risk badha, woh variables remove kar raha tha.

“Tu humko sell out karega?” Aarav ne dheere se poocha.

Kabir ne uski aankhon mein dekhkar kaha, “Main survive karunga. Tum bhi kar lo.”

Aur phir Professor Nandini Sethi ka naam uske phone screen pe aaya. She had already called him.

Aarav ka throat dry ho gaya. Kabir ne call pick kiya, “Ma’am, yes, I’m aware—”

Bas itna sun Us raat, terrace par thandi hawa chal rahi thi aur neeche society ke garden mein ek do lights abhi bhi jhilmila rahi thi. Riya ne apni chai ka cup dono haathon se pakad rakha tha, jaise uske andar ki ghabrahat ko bhi garam rakhna ho. Arjun uske saamne chair pe baitha tha, phone side mein rakh kar, bas sun raha tha.

“Main thak gayi hoon,” Riya ne dheere se kaha. “Sabko lagta hai main strong hoon. Mom ko, office ko, tumhe bhi shayad. Par kabhi-kabhi bas chhod dene ka mann karta hai.”

Arjun ne kuch seconds tak kuch nahi bola. Phir bola, “Strong hona aur thakna, dono ek saath ho sakte hain. Ismein koi contradiction nahi hai.”

Riya hansi, par aankhon mein paani aa gaya. “Tum hamesha itni simple baat kaise kar dete ho?”

“Kyuki simple hi hoti hai,” Arjun ne muskurake kaha. “Hum log bas life ko complicated bana dete hain. Especially Delhi mein. Traffic, deadlines, logon ki expectations… sab kuch milake dimaag ka DTC bus ban jaata hai.”

Riya ko hasi aa gayi. “Exact same feeling.”

Neeche, guard ne koi gate band kiya. Door kahin se metro ki halki si awaaz aa rahi thi, aur society ke andar ek chhota sa kid cycle chala raha tha. Normal sa scene tha, lekin us raat dono ke liye kuch alag sa lag raha tha. Jaise pehli baar unke beech silence uncomfortable nahi, safe ho.

“Kal office mein jo hua,” Riya ne bola, “main actually uske baad ghar jaake rona chahti thi. Par phir thought kiya, kisko bolungi? Mom ko tension ho jayegi. Didi already apni life mein busy hai. Aur friends sab ‘you’re so strong, you’ll handle’ bolke nikal jaate hain.”

Arjun ne seedha uski taraf dekha. “Mujhe bol sakti ho.”

Riya ne usko dekha. “I know. Bas aadat nahi hai.”

“Adat ban jayegi,” Arjun ne softly kaha. “One step at a time.”

Woh dono terrace par aur thodi der baithe rahe. Riya ne pehli baar apne mann ki sab baatein bina filter ke boli—promotion ki anxiety, ghar ki zimmedari, future ka darr, aur woh guilt jo har waqt uske saath chalta rehta tha. Arjun ne na solution diya, na lecture. Bas kabhi “haan,” kabhi “samajh sakta hoon,” kabhi “that sounds really hard” bola. Aur shayad isi simple listening mein Riya ko woh cheez mili jo kaafi time se missing thi.

Subah jab Riya office ke liye nikli, usne notice kiya ki uska dupatta seedha tha, bag thoda light lag raha tha, aur andar ka pressure kam ho gaya tha. Metro mein log apni duniya mein the—koi phone pe, koi neend mein, koi newspaper ke peeche chhupa hua. Riya ne window se bahar dekha. Grey Delhi sky, flyovers, billboards, chai stalls—sab wahi tha. Par uske andar kuch shift ho chuka tha.

Office mein bhi din perfect nahi tha. Boss ne phir se extra work daala, ek colleague ne half-heartedly help ki, aur lunch break tak uska headache start ho gaya. Par is baar usne sab kuch ek saath apne andar dabaya nahi. She stepped out, took a deep breath near the balcony, aur Arjun ko ek message bheja: “Today is one of those days.”

Reply aaya, “Then survive it. No heroics.”

Riya smiled. Itna sa message bhi kaafi tha.

Shaam ko home wapas aate waqt, usne market se do oranges aur mom ke liye tulsi wali chai ki patti le li. Ghar pahunchkar mom ne bas ek nazar uspar daali aur boli, “Aaj chehra thoda better lag raha hai.”

Riya ne shoes utarte hue kaha, “Terrace therapy ka kamaal hai.”

Mom ne eyebrow raise kiya. “Kiske saath?”

Riya ne thodi der pause kiya, phir seedha bol diya, “Arjun.”

Mom ki aankhon mein pehle surprise aaya, phir ek soft si understanding. “Wohi jo office se call karta rehta hai?”

Riya ne nod kiya. “Haan.”

Mom kitchen se cup nikaalti hui boli, “Achha ladka lagta hai.”

Riya ne laugh kiya. “Mom, aapne kab dekha?”

“Beta, maa log dekh nahi, samajh leti hain.”

Ye sunke Riya ko ajeeb sa sukoon mila. Lagta tha jaise zindagi mein jo support woh bahar dhoond rahi thi, uska ek hissa ghar ke andar bhi quietly maujood tha.

Weeks beetne lage. Arjun aur Riya ki baatein daily hone lagi—kabhi office lunch ke time, kabhi metro se pehle, kabhi raat ko jab sab so rahe hote. Dheere dheere unki dosti mein woh warmth aa gayi jo force nahi, flow se aati hai. Koi drama nahi, koi grand confession nahi—bas presence.

Phir ek Friday ko Arjun ne message bheja: “Kal free ho?”

Riya ne turant reply kiya: “Maybe. Kyun?”

“Connaught Place mein coffee? Aur walking. No agenda.”

Riya ne screen dekhkar smile ki. “Sounds dangerous. But okay.”

Saturday ko weather surprisingly pleasant tha. CP ke outer circle pe log apni apni speed mein chal rahe the. Couples, families, college students, office groups, tourists—sab ek hi frame mein the. Riya aur Arjun ek café se coffee leke walk kar rahe the, kabhi Rajiv Chowk ki traffic dekhte, kabhi Janpath ki shops pe rukte.

“Tum yahin ke ho na?” Riya ne poocha.

“Haan,” Arjun ne bola. “Lajpat Nagar side. Tum?”

“Dwarka.”

“Tabhi tum thodi less impatient lagti ho,” Arjun teased.

“Excuse me?” Riya laughed. “Dwarka wale bhi survive karte hain.”

“Of course. Metro line ke warriors.”

Uski hassi sunke Arjun thoda sa ruk gaya, bas ek second ke liye. Riya ne notice kiya, lekin kuch bola nahi.

Unhone India Gate tak walk kiya. Evening light golden thi, aur road ke dono taraf families picnic mood mein thi. Riya ne apne coffee cup ko paper bag mein daala aur shaant ho gayi. Arjun ne side glance kiya.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Riya ne thoda sochkar bola, “Haan. Bas… good day lag raha hai. Aise days kam aate hain na.”

Arjun nodded. “Then remember this one.”

Woh dono wapas aate waqt Metro station ke bahar ruk gaye. Crowd tez tha, announcements chal rahe the, ek chai wala “garam garam” chilla raha tha, aur paas mein ek kid balloon ke saath khel raha tha. Riya ne Arjun ki taraf dekha.

“Arjun,” she said, “thanks.”

“For what?”

“For not making things bigger than they are. Aur for staying.”

Arjun ka expression soft ho gaya. “Riya, main kahin jaa hi nahi raha.”

Us line mein koi filmy intensity nahi thi. Bas itna tha ki Riya ke andar kahi kuch khul gaya. She looked at him for a long moment, phir slowly smiled.

“Good,” she said. “Because ab mujhe aadat ho rahi hai.”

Arjun smiled back, and in the middle of that noisy Delhi evening, among honking cars and metro crowds and the smell of roasted corn in the air, it felt like the most honest thing either of them had ever said.

Khatam