New Found Land

The little stars had aligned. They were twinkling in the night sky. My dear friend had something special for me in-store. I sat quietly on the backseat, wondering, watching the lunatic hunter high above. The alien was stealthily following, keeping a keen eye on us through his antic binocular.

‘Wow! Ow...ow...’

                ‘Yes! And you know what the best part is?’

                ‘What?’

                ‘All the shopping malls, Big bazaar, multiplexes are right around the corner!’

                ‘Ow...Wow, really!’

The star-studded hunter had made his first move. The WOW signal had hit me. I was on the receiving end.

                ‘Yes, yes! Didn’t you see them all on the way?’

                ‘Errr...yea...ow...Wow!’

The hostile road was hitting us hard. My beaming friend Bulbeer was driving, leading the way. I was relying on him heavily.

                ‘Ow…ow…ouch! Slow Bullu...Slow down!!’

                ‘This road is the only problem...’ he lamented, manoeuvring his motorbike through the unending bumps.

It was edge of the seat stuff. The action was rear-guard. The terrain was out-of-this-world; junglee, rocky, dusty; the path ahead heady and pitch-dark. Bulbeer had gone out-of-the-way. He had found an exotic place to live.

                ‘Hmmm…ow…ow…’

                ‘Otherwise everything else is good. You will like it! Believe me!!’ he exclaimed, his voice quaking.

                ‘Yeah…’ I grumbled. ‘Ow…Where…where is his house? How long will it take to reach? Ouch!’ I asked, clinging on, bouncing to his tunes.

                ‘Just round the corner.’ he assured.

The hunter was whipping us. The Bajaj discover had lost it. It was rearing up and down like an old Chetak.

                ‘This is the place I was talking about!’

                ‘Oh…ok…’ I mumbled, busy cursing the stars.

We had at-last found a booming civilization. The rays of hope eased the pressure on my back. The back-lashing road had finally ended.

                ‘The building is going to come up here!’ he demonstrated, zooming into the developing society.

                ‘Eh..eh..chokre! Ruko, ruko!! Kisse milna hai? (Hey..hey…boys! Stop, stop!! Whom do you want?)’ the undressed watchman demanded scampering behind our vehicle. He was in civilian clothes.

                ‘Kyun? Kya chahiye? (Why? What do you want?)’ my friend retorted, parking inside the building premises.

                ‘Aah...ah...’

They were not coming out. I fell short of words. Stepped down gently and limped away writhing in pain. My cute tail bone was fractured in several places.

                ‘Entry karo idhar paihle! (Make an entry here first!)’ the rude-old-man ordered pointing towards the register.

I picked it up and passed it on to Bullu.

‘Kisko milna hai? (Whom do you want to meet?)’ he probed again.

‘Errr…Maa..haat…ma, Mahatma? Mahatma-ji se!’ I exclaimed reading out loud.

‘Chairman saab!! (Chairman sir!)’ he cried out.

The ghost of the Mahatma seemed to be haunting him. The old man was shaken up. He let go of the human race; started seeing stars in the night sky.

‘Haa…Haan Mahatma!! (Ye…yes Mahatma!!)’ I howled; my eyes enlarged, my voice underwent a drastic change. I suddenly grew from a squeaky rat to a hairy monster.

‘Haan! (Yes!)’ Bullu roared.

‘Teesra mala! Jao! Jao! Lift se jao! (Third floor! Go! Go! Use the lift!)’ he directed immediately. The information was half. The star-struck guard snatched the copy from Bullu’s hands.

‘Isn’t he your uncle? Don’t you come here often?’ I probed pressing the button.

‘He is not my own or cousin uncle...’

‘Oh…’

‘I just know him through a friend of mine.’ my friend informed.

The door opened. We fitted ourselves in. The elevator cranked up. It could carry only three persons at one time. We were of the size of four.

                ‘Nice surname’ I remarked closing my eyes. ‘Hope he gives some discount...’

                ‘Will have to!’ Bullu guaranteed, taking it upon himself.

                ‘Let’s see…’          

The lift was quick. We had reached. The tiger was already loitering out. I was a sleeping duck. Opened my eyes hurriedly and scurried out of the three-by-four cage in the nick of time; my neck and limbs intact.

                ‘This way!’

Bulbeer was at it again. He was leading me.

                ‘D.D MAHATMA’

The name plate on the door rang a bell in me. I was feeling honoured. Bullu rang the bell. I took off my shoes.

                ‘Yes...’

The great man was coming; his voice overwhelming.

                ‘Namaste uncle.’ Bullu greeted.

                ‘Namaste’ I huffed bowing. My only chance went begging.

The gangly man dressed in shirt and baggy jeans was not a look-alike by any means; did not resemble Bapu from any mad angle.

                ‘Yes, what is your name?’

Disappointment writ large on my face I spotted the stark reality, eventually. The man was no Mahatma. He was not his great-son-in-law either; neither Bullu’s mama; just a mere chairman.

                ‘I am Bulbeer, uncle…I had come two days back…to enquire about the flat…’ my friend stuttered reminding over and over again.

                ‘Oh…yes, yes Bulbeer…’

                ‘This is my friend…’

                ‘Yes, yes come in! Come in!’ he welcomed grinning.

The living room was messed up. His wife was cheerfully away. We had to fill in. Gathered the clothes, newspaper supplements littered on the sofa and chucked them on the dining table.

                ‘Tell me! Have you guys decided to book?’ he asked facing us.

                ‘Uh…no uncle....’

                ‘Book it quickly otherwise the rates will go up!’ he opened fire. Bullu ducked, I leant back on the sofa.

‘Uh...yes...uncle, actually I brought my friend along to show him the area and get all the details.’

                ‘Ok, ok…but I have already provided you all the cost details.’ the smart-old chairman recollected.

                ‘Yes…but…can you give us the brochure?’

                ‘Book it quickly otherwise the rates will…’

                ‘Brochure...uncle?’ I reminded, interrupting.

                ‘I did not provide you the brochure?’ he enquired. I sensed it. The pesky-old-man was profitably and unarguably deaf.

                ‘No…’ I murmured. Bullu shook his head.

It was my first visit, his second. We were two-little innocent children. We had done our homework.

                ‘You sit here, I will bring it!’ the man groaned up from his plastic chair and headed inside. His own cushy sofa was occupied.

‘Come to the point Bullu!’ I whispered.

‘Yes, yes…don’t worry!’ the tiger winked.

‘Ask him to reduce the rate at-least by two-hundred!’ I challenged.

‘Yes, yes…’ Bullu nodded.

‘And also some from the parking amount…’

I was not afraid of him anymore. The money-spinning, uncooperative Mahatma had irked me. I was in the mood to bargain.

‘Yes…’

‘And also ask him about those two buildings…’

‘Yes, yes…’

Bullu carried on nodding vigorously. His brain was in danger of popping out. The risk was too high. He had work to do, things to say on my behalf. I was alert, ready to take the diving catch and throw it back in.

                ‘Here it is…Hold it!’ the chairman presented stepping out. He was holding it in-front of my friend. An unmindful Bullu stopped rocking his head. I seized the booklet from his wrinkled hand and began studying it.

                ‘When will the construction start uncle?’ Bullu queried.

                ‘What is the rate now uncle?’

The monster in me growled pouncing on him. I jumped straight to the point. The tiger was lurking behind the bush.

                ‘Thirty-one hundred.’ he informed plonking down on his plastic chair.

                ‘Whew! That would be around thirty-five lakhs…’ I whistled. My calculator beeped up.

                ‘So, when will you be providing the booking amount?’ the greedy Mahatma enquired again.

                ‘This looks small! Don’t you think so?’ I suggested pointing at the miniature layout printed on the brochure.

I had no prior experience. The plan seemed flawed to me.

                ‘No, no it’s fine!’ the tiger roared, silencing me. He stamped down the monster. I turned into a squeaky rat again; lost, unable to find my way out of the fallen hairs.

                ‘Pay up the booking amount by tomorrow…’

                ‘Yes uncle…’

                ‘Yes! What yes!!’ I screamed inside.

                ‘But if you could talk to the builder and make something le…sss…’ the tiger hissed.

                ‘Less?’ he asked reconfirming, turning his deaf ear towards my dear friend.

                ‘Ye...yes...’

                ‘In this area you will not get a flat at such low price!’ he refused, shaking his head.

                ‘Just see uncle if you can…some from the parking amount…at-least...if possible…’ the tiger stammered.

                ‘Pay the booking amount first, then only I can speak to the builder.’ D.D Mahatma conditionally agreed.

                ‘And what about the two buildings by the side? Is he going to…’

Bullu was following my orders. He was doing his job, alright. I kept quiet.

                ‘Oh those! He will be demolishing them soon.’ he rubbished, waving his hands. I instantly demolished them in my mind. ‘He has got the FSI increased after all, so he has to!’ he reasoned.

                ‘Oh, great!’ the tiger let out, smiling. ‘When will we be getting the possession, uncle?’

                ‘Problem? No, no, there will not be any problem!’ he reassured. His left ear too was not working. ‘He will have to demolish...’

                ‘Possession uncle... When will we be getting the possession?’ Bullu asked again; his voice loud and clear.

                ‘Possession? Eighteen months! Give me the booking amount cheque by tomorrow!’ he demanded again.

                ‘Yes uncle, let us talk to our families’ first, show them and then we will come to you in two-three days’ time!’

The smart cat was expert at beating around the bush.

                ‘But hurry up! Book it quickly! If the rates go up I will not be able to do anything!’ he yelled.

                ‘Ow...ow...’

We fled.

++++

                ‘Hello?’

I called him back; desperate to have a word with him.

                ‘Sign here...’

                ‘Hello! Simon? Simon!’

It was my lucky day. He picked up my call on the second try.

                ‘Yes, yes... give me the documents by tomorrow...’

He backed away talking nonsense.

                ‘I...’

                ‘Give me a minute sir!’ Simon commanded.

I obeyed, hung on.

‘Yes... tomorrow, tomorrow...Bye...Bye...’

                ‘Yes, tell sir!’ Simon belatedly answered; his tone harassing, harsh. He was my agent. I was his customer. ‘Hello? Hello!!’

                ‘Errr...yes...are you talking to me?’ I queried.

                ‘Yes sir! What’s the problem?’

                ‘When is the disbursement going to happen? My builder is calling me…’

                ‘You haven’t paid up the twenty-percent amount to the builder till now sir! What can I do?’ he paused backfiring.

                ‘Uh…Wh…ho…’

Tongue-tied, I froze, stopped breathing. The bomb dropped on my head. It detonated instantly. I started sweating profusely.  

                ‘When are you going to?’ he resumed, backfiring.

                ‘What...How? What do you mean?’ I spat out, finding myself lost in my own flat.

                ‘Come to my office, I will explain!’

My calculations went for a toss. I was praying throughout, had prepared well; spent nights on it lying flat on my back. The result was depressing. My confidence was shattered. I had failed miserably in my maths exam yet again. The banker flatly refused to clear my papers.

                ‘No! But how…I don’t understand!!’

                ‘Come to my office sir!!’ he invited me over, again, sternly.

I had hit a cracked-pot. The money was looted, delivered to the builder. I had nothing left in the bank.

                ‘Let me see…’

‘Moreover his property is not approved yet!’ he stated.

‘What!!?’

It was raining time bombs. The naughty Simon was dropping them on me at regular intervals. The demand letters were bombing my house weekly.

                ‘What is going on? What are you saying?’ I screamed.

The second one dropped near my feet. The brand new Reinforced-Cement-Concrete slab shook below. My sinking head quaked violently. The bomb fizzed out, failed to detonate itself completely.

                ‘No, no! Not there...sign here!’ he began talking to someone else. I was left gasping, drowning in dire straits.

                ‘Hello!!’ I recalled him back; my tone restless.

                ‘Yes! Pushkar properties na?’

                ‘Yes…’ I uttered gulping down my bouncing heart. It had made its way to my mouth.

                ‘It’s not approved!’ he announced.

                ‘But why?’

                ‘He hasn’t demolished some buildings, the on-site inspection report says!’

                ‘Some? There are just two!’ I blurted.

                ‘Whatever…but it’s not approved! His legal documents are also pending!’

The third bomb was the smallest. It was harmless. I caught it.

                ‘When is he going to then?’ I hollered, clenching my teeth, toying with the grenade. I was mulling to throw it back at him, send him up once and for all.

                ‘How will I know sir?’

I was not getting a favourable answer. The questions were haunting me. I was asking them to the wrong person.

                ‘Talk to him and tell him to provide the complete the legal documents! Nothing can happen till then! And you also pay up the twenty-percent!’

The line went dead. My brain pointed straight.

                ‘Hello! Mr. Jholkar?’

                ‘Hare Krishna…’

                ‘What is going on?’ I erupted.

                ‘Hare Krishna! What, yes tell me sir?  When will the disbursement happen?’ Jholkar demanded.

                ‘Your property is not approved Mr. Jholkar!!’

                ‘Not approved?’ he belched. The reply was abrupt, the builder was corrupt and I was bankrupt.

                ‘Yes, when will you demolish those two buildings?’ I roared. The agreement was signed. I had the fundamental right to question. Fifteen-percent of the lump sum was prepaid.

                ‘We will be starting soon…’

                ‘So until they are demolished the disbursement cannot happen!!’ I relayed. ‘That’s what my agent…’

                ‘Do one thing. You apply again and get your loan sanctioned from non-cooperation bank. This bank has approved our property.’ he directed.

                ‘How…? No! I cannot do that! Nothing is pending from my side. It’s your legal documents and demolition job that’s pending!’ I shot back, hurling the grenade at him.

                ‘Listen to me sir!! It will hardly take ten days for your loan to get sanctioned.’ he cajoled, coolly.

Mouth wide-open, I stood still, stunned. The bomb had no effect on him.

                ‘Apply there...’

‘No…’

‘I know an agent…’

                ‘No! I…’

                ‘Can he come today and collect the documents?’

                ‘No!!’

                ‘I will message you his number, contact him! Hare Krishna!’

What’s up, Mannu?

‘Grrr…grrr…’

‘Rahu! Get up, Rahu…Get up baba!’

‘Hmmm...No momma! Let me sleep for some more time...’

‘What does this boy do, staying up late nights I don’t get it?’

‘Grrr…grrr…’

‘Watches FTV, what else!! Idiot! Keeps me up as well…’ I cursed scampering under the tube-light plank; my long-slick tail wagging out.

‘Grrr…bow…wow…grrr…’

Moily was keeping a keen eye on me. Growling incessantly; threatening to pounce anytime on me with those dark-brown sullen look of his.

‘Madamji!’

The unmistakable frail voice of the humanoid broke through, early morning. He was fighting hard to sneak his head through the door; a sky-blue turban and a pair of eyes the only parts visible.

‘Mannu!! What’s up? So early! It’s not even seven...’ a pleasantly surprised Madam enquired. Hairs rolled up she was busy adjusting the pallu of her cotton sari.

‘Grrr…grr…’

‘Madamji, please catch Moily! Please strap him away in another room...’ he pleaded, his voice trembling.

‘Grrr…bow…wow…grrr…’

‘Down boy, down!’ Madam commanded. ‘Don’t worry! Come in. He won’t do anything. I am here.’

‘Come, come…’

Mannu instantly felt confident. Madam was there to protect him. Sibu, Chidu, Pornie and Tuna marched in behind him. The emergency cabinet meeting was on.

‘Your eyes are red Mannu! Didn’t you get to sleep last night?’

‘I couldn’t sleep all night, Madamji!!’

‘But why? Sit, you guys!’ she directed the gang.

‘I am feeling unsafe, Madamji! Will they also take me to Tihar?’

‘Don’t worry, Mannu…No one can touch you till I am alive!’ Madam assured.

Mannu heaved a sigh of relief. His pot-belly deflated, strange noises were leaking out from inside.

‘Why is Rohu baba sleeping on the sofa?’ Pornie enquired.

‘He is not a fish Pornie! Get over it! Rahu…Rahu is his name!’ Sibu corrected.

‘Badabadi hoche Sibu babu! (Don’t act too smart Sibbuji!)’ Pornie warned; his tone stern.

‘I am fed up of him! I don’t know what this boy does late nights!’ Madam mulled perching high on her bar stool.

Rahu was sprawled on the sofa. The rest had huddled intimately on the opposite one. Dear Madam had no place to sit in her own house.

‘He is a good boy Madam. Don’t worry.’ Chidu stated.

‘Well Mannu did you speak to Mr. Hazare? What do you think; will he call off his fast today?’

‘Well, Madam I…’

‘Aye, Tuna I gave you hajar taka (thousand rupees) na yesterday for Petrol, when will you be giving it back to me?’ Pornie demanded pointing his double-ringed index finger at him.

‘Don’t speak rubbish! When did I take money from you?’ Tuna retorted grabbing his lungi. He was ready for a fight, just in-case.

‘Aye! Faaltu kotha maat boko… (Aye! Don’t speak nonsense…)’

Squeezed between Chidu and Sibu a steaming Pornie tried getting up. He failed, his butt was stuck in-between.

‘Pornie! Stop the nonsense!! We are discussing on an important topic here!’ Madam scolded eyeballing him.

‘Sorry, Madom…’

‘Start lowering the prices I will return the money to you in instalments.’ Tuna mocked.

‘So, Mannu what do you think? What should we do with Mr. Anna Hazare?’ she asked again smiling.

‘Well, Madam I…’

‘We should put that rascal in jail Madam!’ a furious Sibu intervened.

‘What do you say Mannu?’

‘Well, Madam I…’

‘I agree with Sibu! He is destroying the law and order situation in our country.’ Chidu remarked.

‘Ohaat (What) about the Mumbai blast? Ohen (When) you will be catching the kaalprits (culprits)?’ Pornie challenged.

‘I have some leads…’ Chidu replied coolly. His eyes fluttering, head rocking.

‘And may I know Ohaat (What)?’

‘Before the blast they ate idly-sambar in a restaurant. I have sent the plates for DNA testing. Don’t worry we will nab them soon!’ he predicted.

‘Ok! Fine! But what about Baba Kamdev then? Mannu? What should we do with him?’

‘Well, Madam I…’

‘Just leave it to me Madam! I will take care of him. He is just a fly for me!’ Sibu assured, digging his nose.

‘Ok! Fine!’

‘Rahu baba get up! It’s eight o’clock. Remember, we had a deal on a basketball match…’ Tuna coaxed. Lungi folded up to his knees he was set to dribble.

‘So, Mannu! Whose turn is it to go to jail today?’

‘Well, Madam I…’

‘I think Moron is next!’ Chidu jumped in.

‘Dhurrr…moshayee!! From Ohen (When) is this case ranning (running) I don’t understand!’ a miffed Pornie denounced.

‘Don’t get hyper Pornie! It’s all because of that idiot Maja…’ Sibu cursed, patting his aroused colleague on the back.

‘Rahu baba get up…’ Tuna continued.

‘So, Mannu you will be coming with us to Raj Ghat tomorrow?’

‘Well, Madam I…’

‘I will not be able to make it Madom. I have to go to the phish (fish) market.’ Pornie interrupted excusing himself.

‘Rahu baba get up…’

‘Mother-promise until Maya is kicked out of UP I will not become PM…errr…any minister…’

His eyes shut, Rahu finally responded to Tuna’s calls.

‘Ok! That’s it then!’ Madam cried out jumping down from her bar stool. ‘Mannu, do you have something to say?’

‘Well, Madam I was trying to say that I needed to use your toilet…It’s an emergency!’ he begged.

‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Go, go! Hurry up!’ she cheered, giving him an immediate clearance.

Mannu tottered racing inside, unlacing. His Pajama wasn’t coming off.

‘Use the bathroom in the backyard!!’

I Deserve an Amrikan Ratna

Mind It: The views expressed here are mine and do not reflect the official opinion of my employer or my organization through which the Internet was accessed.

‘…..Awaiting your earnest reply, regards Chakit Gupta’

It was like any-other day in office.

‘What else do they want from me? What is this earnest thing anyways? Can’t they be a bit different?’ late in the morning, stirred up I asked myself reading the lingo mail. There was a deluge of them.

I moved on ‘Delete this one…delete this one…and all these…’

I was having fun. The mails irrelevant I enjoyed trashing them from the intricately designed folders created painstakingly in my mailbox. The hunt simplified I was going through my usual, every morning junk-mail-bulk-delete operation.

‘Phew! I am done for the day!’ I exclaimed within. ‘Except for that damn issue of-course...I am hundred percent sure that is also not an issue.’

The naughty orangutan hopped on me jabbing my sore back. ‘These In-Ox guys have a habit of making noise unnecessarily!’ I muttered jerking my lynchpin.

The scoundrel fell down. I kicked it aside.

‘Another mail? Now what?’

My eyeballs popped out. The dreaded thing had just taken place. The In-Ox folder had a fresh new mail.

‘Hi Ranjan, Any updates? Regards, Trilok Chand Gautam’

‘Are they insane? This Ox team has gone wild!’ I grumbled.

‘You there? Please call me!’

‘Give me a break!’ I told myself, replying half-heartedly on the instant messenger. ‘Yes. Ok’

It was Prannath; our technical director. The shared phone was three feet away. I had to dial in though.

‘Did you check the mail from In-Ox?’ he demanded; his tone intimidating.

‘Yeah…Yeah I did.’ I stuttered meekly. The hairs on my body spiked up. His loud voice had reduced me to a terrified cat.

‘What is the…?’ Prannath stopped-short investigating. The sudden outcry of his child muffled his words.

‘Papa, Daddy! Pick me up.’ his son pleaded.

‘What, Pran?’ I dared to ask.

‘No not now beta, I am on the phone na. Go play with mummy!’

‘What, Pran?’ I dared to ask the second time.

‘You are a big jerk dude!! Did you know that?’ the Americanized child screamed.

‘Hey!! Hey! Where did you learn that from?’ the father thundered in his rustic accent.

‘Booo…hooo…’

The shrieks were deafening, unbearable. I immediately held the receiver away from my ear, clenching my teeth.

‘Ritwik! Come out Beta! Daddy is working na? Don’t disturb him. Good boy, come to me, come, come…’ his wife cajoled.

‘Booo….Hooo….Hooo….Aaaa…Hooo…Hooo…’

The expat child’s wails were getting louder and longer. The receiver clutched in my palm was going far, far away.

‘Hello? Ranjan?’

‘Yeah…yeah Pran?’

The cries died down. ‘What, Pran?’ I dared to ask the third time.

‘Issue, issue!! Did you find out the root cause?’ he demanded.

‘Yeah…actually I have just come in. I will be looking into it in sometime’

My head throbbed with each word.

‘Ok! Find it out and mail me by the end of your day.’

‘Only to you…I mean shouldn’t I keep In-Ox guys in the loop?’

‘No! Only to me. I will cross-verify and mail them separately.’

Prannath was in good mood. He clarified for once.

‘I will also verify with Param Doshi and check if there is a problem from the Gateway end.’ I volunteered.

‘Yes! Please do that.’

‘Fine…fine, no issues. Will do, Goodnight, Bye.’

I felt relieved putting the receiver down.

‘Sir-ji! Hello!’ Trilok Chand Gautam greeted.

I swung my head around to find the orangutan standing behind me.  He kept a keen watch on me.

‘Yeah! What is it?’ taken aback I mouthed letting loose.

‘That Fee issue? Did you get a chance to look into it?’ he poked me in his soft tone.

‘No! I will but later.’ I retorted. ‘I have other work to do as well.’

‘But it’s urgent! Can you look into it right-away?’ eyebrows raised he gazed at me for a favorable answer.

‘Don’t you get it?’ I hollered glaring at him. ‘I will reply my findings to Prannath. He will update you! Now go back from where you came from!’

‘But please ask him to reply soon.’ he gazed at me.

‘I need a break…’

I got up shaking my head. The wicked sensation on my tongue made me uneasy. I just had to smoke.

++++

‘Are you mad? No! I cannot come now!!’ I shouted.

The Ox people were at it again. One o’ clock in the morning and they were calling me in.

‘Prannath is calling you! It’s urgent!’ the nocturnal Chakit stated.

‘What is this? I have already mailed him regarding the fix. Didn’t he mail you guys?’ I argued reluctant to get out of my warm cozy blanket.

‘Yes, he did but that did not resolve the problem.’

The line went silent for a few seconds. I was busy cursing him.

‘Are you coming or not? What should I tell him?’ he threatened.

‘Mtch! Yes, yes I am coming!’

I gave in hanging up. Leaped out of bed, grabbed my clothes and dashed towards office. The machine was taking time to boot up. Hands on head, elbow resting on the chair-arm I shut my eyes.

‘You there? Please call me!’

Prannath wrote the moment I logged into my machine.

‘I have to disable this auto login feature…’

I took it up as an immediate action item dialing his number.

‘Hello?’

‘Yes, Ranjan!’

‘Yeah…Hi Pran’ I uttered in a dopey tone.

‘Yeah! What did you debug man? The cache clearing did not work.’

‘But Prannath the issue is not reproducible on the UAT environment? I verified it several times it has to be a cache problem.’ I conveyed baffled by the revenant-nagging problem.

‘No! The problem must be somewhere else! Give me the UAT details I will check for myself.’

‘Wait a second!’ I said opening the crooked file to give him the details. ‘Here! Take it!’ I uttered hurling the message at him.

‘Hang up! I will call you in ten-fifteen minutes!’ he ordered.

‘Ok.’

‘Yeah! Call you? I bet.’ I mocked.

‘So many mails on the same issue…’ I told myself reading them one by one.

‘What the ****!!’

‘Pran, I have found the issue!’ I messaged him. ‘In-Ox guys have cleared the cache of the wrong machine. They have cleared cache of 9111 machine whereas they had to clear cache of the 9786 one.’ I typed hurriedly reading simultaneously one of their lousy mails.

‘Ask them to do it for that machine and check’ he replied.

I copy-pasted my Hitch-cocky observation to the Ox team immediately; unwilling to waste even a bit of my sleep-time.

‘Wait, we are doing it.’ the vampire replied.

The wait was tiring. I was dozing off intermittently. Prannath was away.

‘Hey! Good news!’

The much anticipated message finally broke through at the break of dawn.

‘What?’

‘The store manager did a transaction and it worked.’ he blurted, pinging me.

‘It worked Prannath!’

I relayed the heart-stopping message.

‘What is he typing so much?’

My heart pounded waiting for his spooky reply.

‘Yeah! I know. Great catch, Ranjan! Good job, keep it up. You can go home now.’

The Silent Moaner – A Malgudi Tale

It was a usual bright morning in the quaint little town of Malgudi. Venkatesh an early riser was on his way to the vegetable market. A Physics teacher in Malgudi’s Albert Mission School it was a special day for him. Dressed in white, he wore a lungi folded up from his knees and a glaring white shirt. His brand new red moped twinkled under the sun. Beaming, he drove it at a snail's pace. The overwhelming aroma of a bottle full of coconut oil came off from his hair. He had neatly-combed them on either side.

‘Humpf!! You don’t get anything pure these days. Everything seems to be adulterated. What will happen to this country, God knows…’ he grumbled, shaking his head.

As if Mahatma Gandhi, just before slumping on the ground, handed him the responsibility of the nation. Entitling him as Ah.... Two long strands of hair had fallen on his forehead making him halt for the second time. Irritated, he turned off the motor, straightened them up and pedalled forwards.

‘What masterji!!? New moped?’ a man called out, returning from a field nearby.

A lota in his hand, wearing a chequered boxer and a white banyan he stood at the opposite side of the road. His boxer laces hanging up-to the knee he had his eyes fixed on Venkatesh’s motorbike.

Venkatesh quickly landed his two legs and killed the low dull sound of the motor.

‘Yes Thanappa! I bought it yesterday….’ he replied, flashing his white teeth. ‘You know it has a top speed of fifty.’ he bragged.

‘Arre, Venkateshji? Why have you fitted a torch in-front? Turnoff your head light….! It’s day, not night!!’ Thanappa laughed.

‘You will not understand that. It’s a bit complicated for you.’ Venkatesh retorted sharply.

A Physics teacher that he was he applied his knowledge wherever he could. A dynamo fitted on the pedal chain, a torch tied in between the handles, a thin wire connected both. His backbreaking pedalling made the torch flicker faintly.

‘Humpf! From where do such stupid people come from? Number one, joker!!’ he mocked the man within.

‘Achha? If it has a top speed of fifty then why are you driving it at fifteen?’ Thanappa asked. He had crossed the road and walked up to him.

‘I am leaving. I have work.’ Venkatesh exclaimed pedalling away fiercely.

‘Arreee…! Give an answer Masterji… Where are you going?’ he shouted trying to call him back.

Venkatesh hated such people who simply wasted their time. ‘Humpf! They will waste their time as well as my time.’ he rebuked. ‘Go and bathe first! Dirty fellow!!’

Finding himself in a tricky position he scampered away.

‘Who will take care of my family if something happens to me? He will…’ he declared inside.

His excuse, time but the fact that he was scared of driving relatively fast was his primary concern.

‘It’s my moped, my light. It is turned on or off, day or night…who is he to comment on it?’ he continued murmuring. ‘Humpf! There is no shortage of jokers in Malgudi.’

Venkatesh finally reached the market huffing and puffing. He parked his vehicle right at the entrance, looked around, touched the seat, prayed silently for a minute and went in.

‘I have to be aware. There are plenty of thieves in Malgudi.’ he mulled turning back time and again.

‘Have I locked it!!?’ he panicked. He ran back, took out the key unlocked it only to lock it again.

‘Namaste Masterji. You came so early today?’ a vegetable vendor greeted as a jittery Venkatesh approached him.

‘Yes, I bought a new moped so reached quickly.’ he replied smiling.

                ‘What will you buy today? It’s a very special day…’ the vendor lured.

                ‘Give these vegetables to me. Hurry up! I need to leave quickly.’ he said, jerking his fingers. The names and quantity of them were listed by his wife. He took out the long piece of paper from his chest pocket, uttered the names out promptly, handing over the muslin bag to him.

                ‘Wait, wait masterji...I don’t have everything...’ perplexed, the vendor exclaimed.

                ‘Give me whatever you have. Please, hurry up!!’

Venkatesh snapped his fingers, pleading. A shabbily dressed man lurked around his treasured possession. He had his eyes set on his moped. The vehicle in-sight, sparkling under the sun, he was wary of the filthily dressed man. The seller in the mean-time weighed the vegetables diligently and stuffed them in his bag.

‘Hurry up! Give it to me, quick!’ he asked looking away, worriedly.

‘That man...’ he uttered stopping abruptly.

                ‘He will steal my motor vehicle. I have to keep my eyes on him.’ he told himself, frowning.

                ‘What happened, Masterji? Who is there?’ the vendor asked. Perched on a cement platform he leaned forwards, searching.

                ‘Huh! Nothing. Give me the bag.’

                ‘It has everything except these two vegetables.’ he stated. Holding the list in-front of Venkatesh he pointed out the names. An inattentive Master looked away. His mind was full of grave thoughts.

                ‘Masterji! Are you listening?’ he cried out.

                ‘Huh! Everything is fine.’ he said, grabbing his bag. He paid the vendor quickly and scooted out.

                ‘Phew! God saved me today.’ he thanked feeling relieved on touching the handle of his moped.

                ‘Give me something to eat, sahab!’ the beggar uttered, trudging backwards. The strict school teacher kept quiet.

                ‘Sahab?’

The beggar called out again. He touched Venkatesh’s speckles white shirt.

                ‘I don’t have any money. Go, away, please...’

He unlocked his moped. Set the bag down on the narrow platform and struggled to get away, quickly.

++++

               

                ‘You did not bring pumpkin...and peas...?’ Sumitra, his wife asked.

                ‘I...’         

‘You are leaving tonight, how will I manage the rest of the week?’ she criticized.

‘Sumitra...I had some work today so could not bring everything.’ he lied. ‘Where is Lakshmi?’ he asked changing the topic.

                ‘She is sleeping. But I had given you the list, how could you forget?’ she scolded.

                ‘You know what happened...!’ he cried out recalling the beggar’s dreadful face. ‘Thank-God that I reached on time otherwise...There are plenty of thieves in Malgudi. Even going out has become a problem these days.’

Sumitra kept quiet believing in his husband’s words. She continued hanging her clothes in the courtyard to dry.

                ‘My train is at eight o’ clock in the evening. Pack my clothes in the suitcase and also my dinner.’ he instructed his wife, getting up.

                ‘But the station is only fifteen minutes away, what will you do for one hour?’

                ‘Do these big trains run on time? I don’t want to take a chance plus it will also get dark by then...’ he feared, going in to his room.

                ‘Lakshmi, get up.’ Venkatesh commanded his seven year old daughter.

                ‘Shall I serve you coffee?’ his wife inquired, standing at the door.

                ‘Let her get up first.’ he replied in a stern voice. ‘Laksmi get up. You should not sleep so late otherwise you will become a bad girl…’

                ‘Hmmm...Pitaji, let me sleep, no!’ Lakshmi cried out.

++++

‘Don’t cry unnecessarily.’ Venkatesh told his wife; his tone harsh. Standing at the doorstep with his suitcase in hand he was ready to leave.

‘Take this torch and umbrella with you. It might rain any-time soon.’ his wife offered wiping the tear drop from her face. Gusty winds blew as twilight slowly faded away.

‘Pitaji, where are you going?’ a pony-tailed Lakshmi asked.

‘I am going far away, go inside.’

‘Hmmm...’ she emitted shaking her head.

‘Travel safely and please, come back quickly.’ his wife advised.

‘Take care of the house. Lock the doors and windows in the afternoon itself and don’t go out anywhere in the evenings with Lakshmi.’ he released a multitude of warnings. ‘As soon as I finish my work I will come back. It’s just a matter of few days.’ he said, tranquillizing himself more than his wife. With a heavy heart he waved his hands and walked away into the darkness.

Giant drops of rain had started bouncing on his nose. Looking up to the dark clouds, he clicked open his umbrella. Deafening thunder and dazzling lightning in the vicinity. The blustery winds threatened to drift his frail umbrella away; his hand in danger of breaking away along with it. The rain was getting heavier by the minute. Wet from his waist, Venkatesh walked swiftly towards the railway station. Seeing the station bulb lit from a distance, a sense of comfort filtrated down to his gut. The tracks just hundred metres away, a banyan tree the only dimly lit shelter he decided to run and post his half-drenched body under it.

‘Where are you going, sahab?’

A woman’s voice made him stop on his tracks. He flashed his torch on. A young woman in her early twenties, dressed in a tattered saree called out. Legs folded up, hands tied around them she sat by the roadside. Her body wet, her sleekly curved figure was visible from her soaked, transparent clothing. He shut his torch instantly, viewing it from a close range.

‘Who are you?’ taken aback by her sudden presence he shouted at her.

‘The weather is not good, sahab. Don’t go.’ she warned.

‘You don’t have to worry! Go, do your work.’ he told her, flashing the torch on her face to have a close look. The falling rain drops were skiing down her fair face. Her body attractive he switched it off looking down for a brief moment.

‘My house is close-by, you can take shelter there until the train arrives.’ her hand shivered as she pointed towards it in a sluggish tone.

‘I am living in Malgudi for the past thirty years. There is no house around except that of the station master. Am I a fool to believe in your words?’ he mouthed, yelling at her.

The lady a stranger Venkatesh was not a man to listen to any eerie person. He raced away and stood under the banyan tree. The rain had become torrential. The stormy winds swayed the bulb over him violently. It eventually exploded plunging the area in complete darkness. His clothes completely soaked, umbrella providing a weak resistance he remained firm braving the nature’s fury.

‘I should have listened to her.’ A thought crossed his mind.

Eyes squeezed, he looked around. Striving to see or hear anything but the relentless rain. A dim light glimmered at a distance, behind him. Trusting it to be the light coming from a reliable source he made up his mind to approach him.

The torch in one hand, he struggled to close down his umbrella. Groped for his suitcase, picked it up, turned around and ran frantically in the direction of the light.

                ‘Open the door! Is someone there? Please open the door!!’ scared, panting heavily, he knocked.

                ‘Come inside quickly!’

The door opened. He barged inside, turning off the torch light. His clothes dripping wet, his eyes closed, he trembled unrestrainedly.

                ‘I had told you, sahab, not to go.’

Venkatesh opened his eyes. He had a shocked expression on his face. It was the same young lady standing in-front of him.

                ‘I need to go... Open the door. Let me out!’ he panicked rushing towards it.

                ‘Where do you want to go? Can’t you see it’s raining outside. Just sit inside, quietly!!’ the lady scolded, screaming at him. She blocked the door with her hands and body; desperate to keep him inside.

                ‘No, I have to go. I will miss the train otherwise. Please free me...’ Venkatesh cried out closing his eyes.

                ‘What do you think? I am some ghost! Wait, I will prove it...’

The lady walked away. Venkatesh stood there helplessly.

‘Open your eyes and check for yourself...Open them!!’

He fluttered his eyelids up. Recognising dark-red blood staining the mud floor he backtracked immediately. The lady had cut her right index finger with a sharp object.

                ‘Now do you believe in me? What else should I do?’ she said wincing in pain. She grabbed the loose end of her saree, tore a long piece out of it and wrapped her oozing finger.

                ‘Sit in that corner.’ she ordered. Head hung low he put his suitcase down and tamely followed her orders.

                ‘Are you the only living person in Malgudi?’ she shouted in anguish.

Venkatesh had crouched himself at a corner. His body shivered continuously. He remained silent staring at the oil lamp burning in the middle of the room.

                ‘You know who you are? You are a terrified rat!’ she carried on in her rough tone, mocking his posture. Eyeing him menacingly she trudged ahead and sat in the opposite corner.

                ‘Humpf! Shameless beggar! Look at her clothes.’ he grumbled, looking down.

                ‘Why are you not looking at me? Look up.’ she ordered in a grave tone.

                ‘No.’ Venkatesh spoke out, breaking his silence.

                ‘Why? Just because my clothes are improper...just because my body is visible...?’

                ‘Stop it!’ he shouted staring at her.

                ‘Where do you live?’

                ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’ he shot back, glancing at her meekly.

                ‘Why?’

Venkatesh remained silent.

                ‘Because, I am a beggar? That’s why?’ she glared at him, continuously. ‘Aren’t beggars human beings?’

                ‘What is your name?’ Venkatesh inquired. He could not help but stare at her resplendent face. Her voice full of life, he found it innocuously soothing.

                ‘What do you do?’ she persisted, disregarding him.

                ‘I am a teacher in Albert Mission school.’ he stated proudly.

                ‘You are a teacher!!’ she exclaimed. ‘What do you teach your children?’

                ‘Physics, Do you even know what Physics is? Humpf!’

                ‘I don’t know it but I know that I am brave.’ she gave him a terse reply. ‘I am not afraid, like you. What is the use of Juji if you cannot live happily?’

She kept on pelting awkward questions at him. Accustomed to reprimand children in school, he felt it a bit unusual on being scolded by a stranger. ‘Even my wife does not speak to me like this!’ he complained within.

                ‘Do you lie to your wife?’

                ‘Who do…?’

He kept quiet, giving the lady a cold stare.

                ‘Answer me!’

‘Because you were afraid that she will laugh at you and curse you? Isn’t it?’

He nodded, looking down at the floor. ‘You are a coward.’

Venkatesh felt restless from inside. The interrogation straightforward he found himself at a loss of words.

                ‘You are not a good teacher then!’ the lady stated.

An uneasy silence followed.

                ‘Do you want to eat something?’ she spoke out, lowering her voice for the first time.

                ‘What is the time? The train can come any moment now. I better leave.’ he panicked again.

                ‘No train will come. Can’t you see how bad the weather is outside?’ she rebuked him vociferously.

                ‘But I have to go, it’s urgent.’ Venkatesh retorted reasoning.

                ‘Go, I will not stop you this time.’ she said, ushering him out in a manner.

He mulled over it listening to the long thunderous noises coming from outside. His breath, bated. The rain lashing outside, lightning sparks occasionally breaking through the thatched roof he gave up the idea of venturing out in the dark.

                ‘Do you want some puffed rice?’ the young lady offered him the second time.

                ‘No! My wife has given me food. I will eat that.’ he declined her offer.

                ‘Yeah! Yeah! I forgot I am a beggar.’ she ridiculed, compounding his agony.

                ‘Where is it?’ Venkatesh cried out in a stifled tone.

                ‘What? What are you looking for?’

                ‘My Tiffin! I cannot find it.’

He searched his suitcase thoroughly but could not find his dinner.

                ‘Close your suitcase and take this.’ the lady offered her puffed rice in a dirty looking bowl.

                ‘I am not hungry.’ Venkatesh uttered locking his suitcase.          

She kept the bowl near him. Lied down and turned her back at him at her corner.

‘You will not eat?’ he asked her sheepishly. Nowhere to go, stranded, starving, his stomach emitting weird noises he had no choice but to listen to her.

‘I am not hungry.’ she promptly replied.

He emptied the bowl in a hurry and sat staring at the lamp. Predetermined to go back home the moment the rain would stop.

                ‘Where am I?’

The sun beating down, dazed, Venkatesh strained his eyes open. He noted the time in his watch and sprang up in a flash. It was ten o’ clock in the morning. The night long and tiring he had dozed off inadvertently.

                ‘Lamp? Lamp!’ he recollected the events of the previous night. ‘Where is she?’ he asked himself looking around for the young lady. Hair strewn; clothes soiled he clutched his suitcase and ran out searching for her.

‘Is this my house...? It is my house!’ baffled he turned around and paced up and down; He had spent the night sleeping on the front porch of his own house. ‘How did I get here…? Who was she…? Why didn’t my wife open the door…?’ his mind was filled with endless uncertainties.

                ‘Sumitra! Sumitra!!?’

Perplexed he dashed towards the door and called her out.

                ‘Coming!’ a voice shouted back.

                ‘It is my wife!! But how is it possible?’

The door flung open. Venkatesh hustled in. It appeared as if he had set out to explore his own house. ‘Huh!! You came back so soon? What happened to you? Your clothes... your hair...is everything fine.’ Sumitra asked running towards him, clutching his hand from back. ‘Why are you quiet? Say something!! Speak up!’

He turned towards her and spoke out in a soft tone, ‘Shall I bring the remaining vegetables...?’

The Holy Dip - In a Drain

My life is not an open book. It’s just a dusty Playboy magazine. Hidden under the carpet, I sneak a look into it once in a while. Capturing the breathtaking frames only after my family of pirates is fast asleep.

The kindergarten days: Do you remember them?
I do vividly, for a specific and an extra special reason. It was the first time I had kissed a girl fondly. Fondly!! Woah, oh, oh, oh! What? What are you thinking? By now you must have started fantasizing. I knew it!! Dirty Mind!
I had kissed the curly haired one on her cheek more out of genuine affection than anything else. Hang on!! I remember kissing her, where…? It’s gone a bit blurry. Let me think…. ‘Hmmm…’
‘The blog! Romeo!!’ a voice reminds me, as I write, jolting me from my fantasy.
‘What blog? Don’t disturb!! This is much better.’ I shot back at him. ‘The feeling is divine.’
‘Dip? Drain?’ the voice echoed, dragging me away from the stimulating scene.
‘Diaper?’ I asked myself, absentminded. ‘But, I don’t have any children!!?’
‘Look up!! Idiot!!’ he shouted, slapping me hard.
‘Oh! Yes! Now I remember.’

I had just joined Don Bosco School, Siliguri. “Admission Granted – STD I” was what, was stamped, on top of my charismatic miniature photo; passing a strenuous little exam prior to it. The people alien, I roamed around the campus with my then only friend Arpan Chettri. He was the sole recognizable face when I shifted from my humble kindergarten school to this Richie-rich one. Like two brothers reunited in the lost and found section of the Kumbh-Mela. Arms around each other’s shoulders we wandered singing the Sholay tune.
‘Arpan! Look at this drain.’ I exclaimed, stopping abruptly; we as usual wandered during the break time.
The rainy season at its peak, an unrelenting drizzle characterized the day. Soaking the light rain I stood at the edge of the broad, two-three feet high drain. Gazing and hearing the gurgling sound of water gush away. The extreme force of it flushed down everything and anything that came in its path. Glancing sideways I noticed the other kids frolicking by its side. Some dropped leaves, some paper boats. Others tore up their boats to drop pieces of paper with their names written on it. All competing, racing along the gutter with their individual articles, set afloat. The speed of the current carrying them enabled them to decide the winner.
‘Arpan!!?’ I called out. Turned back and searched in my vicinity but could not find him.
‘He must have gone to the toilet.’ I told myself shrugging; continuing to follow some of the closely fought contests.
‘Splash!!’, ‘Shuh! Shuh! Shuh...’
These were the only sounds I could hear the next moment. The latter without any doubt uttered by me struggling against the tide. The burbling noise of the water entering my ears followed them. Picking my head, out of the water I looked up to find Arpan standing atop. A smile on his face to begin with, he broke out in a laughing fit. I got up on my feet immediately, displacing the cold gutter water on either side of me. Not able to get out of the drain after few tries I stood erect. My feet apart, enduring the cold current. My hairs, white shirt drenched. My light grey half-pants completely soaked, stained to a darker colour. Water slipped through the pockets causing my sensitive areas to become stiff. Shocked, panic-stricken I began forming small cups of water with my tiny palms. He backed off, viewing me throw the drops furiously in his direction, still laughing out loud. Nothing else nearby to inflict my rage on him I resorted to my last option. The helpless child that I was began crying. I sobbed inconsolably for a minute or two. Vowing never to forgive Arpan for his shameless act and never, ever talk to him again, till my last breath. Fortunate to have my two cousins studying in the higher grade of the same school I saw them rushing towards me. Grabbing their hands I pulled myself out of it, grazing both my knees in the process on the rugged concrete. One held my legs, the other my arms. My face skywards I forced it down, searching left and right. But Arpan was nowhere to be seen. I assumed, him to have run away seeing my cousins, probably scared of being beaten. Stretching me they both transported me to the assembly hall. The principal came running thereafter. Consoling me he offered me a Hawaiian shirt and a black pant. A unique, stinky smell came out of them. No other option I wore it; to be the odd one out in the whole class for the rest of the day. I had instantly become the center of attraction for no deed of mine. They giggled staring at me, others cracked jokes. Alienated, I glanced at Arpan menacingly but he sensibly looked away.

++++

‘Maa!! Where is Arpan?’ I asked my mother coming back from school one day. It had been close to ten days since I had seen Arpan.
‘I don’t know. Why? Don’t you meet him in school?’ she asked.
‘No.’ I replied in short refraining to divulge further details; specifically my gesture of avoiding him consciously.
‘I also did not see his mother for few days….’ she stated, pondering. A frown developed on her face. Homes close-by, our mothers often ran into each other in their favourite grocery shop.
‘Leave it!! He will come soon… may be.’ I said shrugging, reluctant to entertain the thought of a rogue Arpan at length.
‘No, no!! Let’s go this Saturday evening and check what the matter is!’ she proclaimed, forcing me, shaking her head vigorously.
‘But why? What is the need?’ I cried out, opposing her decision in the strongest of tones.
‘Fine! You don’t go. I will.’ she said. Turning back she walked swiftly into the kitchen, seething.

++++

It was Saturday evening. Although I had protested, I did not want to stay alone in the house and be haunted. Lollipop, the award I trudged along with her to reach Arpan’s house. Burdened by a sense of guilt; not having spoken to my once close friend for that many days.
‘Don’t be naughty. Don’t play for too long. We have to go early and don’t ask for anything to eat.’ my strict mother issued me a host of warnings, ringing the bell.
‘Oh! Ranzzaan! Come! Namahste!’ she greeted both of us.
Entering, my eyes immediately began searching for Arpan. My heart thumping fast I was wary of how to start a conversation with him.
‘Nomoste, Nomoste! How are you? I…’ my mother greeted back.
‘Where is Arpan, aunty?’ I inquired, interrupting. Looking at her, I prayed that he be somewhere far-away from his house, playing.
‘He is inside. Go in that room.’ she replied, pointing. A purdah (separation cloth) hung, did not permit me to peep inside from a distance.
The dreadful answer received I went up to the room, leaving both of them behind. I moved the cloth aside and peeped into the room.
‘Don’t ask me…’
I could hear Arpan’s mother talking to mine.
‘He is sick for the past…’
‘Sick!!?’ baffled, I asked myself. Overhearing, I stood quietly at the door-sill.
Arpan lay there on the bed. His face turned in the opposite direction. His body covered with a brown quilt up-to the neck. Panic-struck, I turned around and exited the room. Afraid that Arpan would get up and start blaming me for his illness.
‘Go, inside! He is there.’ his mother urged. ‘He was taking your name in sleep for the past few days.’ she said, increasing my anxiety to abnormal levels.
‘Why?’ my mother inquired, smiling.
‘I don’t know. He was in his sleep.’
Caught in no man’s land I about-turned and entered the room, again. Arpan had twisted his face in my direction. His heavy, sleepy eyes marginally open; he gazed at me from the distance. The nervous I took out the second lollipop from my pocket. Holding it in my hand like a bouquet I moved towards him, taking measured steps. The wrapper on it served as the ‘Get Well Soon’ greeting card. Hoping that my gift would please him and more importantly he would not complain to my and his mother.
‘Here, take!’ I offered him. My voice wavered as I stopped close to him, by the bed.
Pulling his hand out of his cozy cover he grasped the stick.
‘What happened to your eyes and your nails…?’
Dismayed and perplexed I questioned him examining his nails and eyes closely. Pale yellow in colour they seemed to be a unique, eye popping occurrence to me. One, I had never ever encountered in my short life span.
‘Are you still angry?’ he queried in a stifled voice. I noticed; his face too had turned pale yellow.
Not knowing what to say I simply stared at him. Mixed emotions ran through me. I was not able to determine whether his mistake was greater, or mine was.
‘Forgive me, Ranjan. I made a mistake. I am sorry.’ he said, repeating one of our moral science lines recently taught in school. A tear drop streamed down from the corner of his eye.
‘I am sorry as well… for not talking to you.’ I uttered, clearing my throat.
‘Are we still friends? I don’t have anyone else to talk to in school.’ he asked, reasoning innocently.
‘Yes I am. I will talk to you.’ I assured him. ‘Eat the lollipop. It’s tasty. Tut… tut!!’ I told him, emitting sounds from my mouth.
‘Don’t eat that!’ her mother screamed from behind. She came into the room with my mother.
‘See!! The chap is suffering from jaundice and he wants to eat chocolates.’ she admonished Arpan. Frightened I backed off allowing his mother to sit at his side.
‘But mom, Ranjan brought it for me!!’ he begged.
‘Eat it later. You are not well now, no.’ she said stroking his forehead. Snatching the candy from his hands she kept it away from him.
‘I am feeling better now. Give it to me!!!’ he cried out in a shrill voice.
‘Eat it later, Arpan. It doesn’t matter.’ I said trying to calm him down.
‘Look! Listen, to what your friend is saying.’ her mother told, winking at me.
A wink: The meaning of which I understood later in my life; courtesy my mother. Five years down the line, I was in the same school, I played near the same drain, it was the same me. But Arpan, my friend was far, far away…

Thank-you all for reading; until next time, the moti-bhaddi aurat (fat-ugly lady) sings. It’s BYE!!