THE THREE WAY

An afternoon shower always felt good. Hishey sat idly as his elderly aunt plucked tea leaves along with Pema, at about a hundred yards from where he sat. The farm was wet, the soil moist. The clouds had dispersed soon after the shower and an ageing red sun peeped from between them every now and then. Each time the sunrays fell on the water droplets on the tender leaflets, they shined like pearls. He sat in a contemplative mood watching Pema pluck tea leaves. He stood up lazily, and called for his herd of sheep that had been grazing on the opposite side of the tea farm. The sheep which he had inherited from his father. Besides his shepherding business, he also worked part time as a guide to the tourists in Darjeeling.

As he sat watching her, the tea estate manager came and called the day off. It came as a relief to the women but disappointment for Hishey. Now he’ll have to wait till next morning to see Pema again. She went past him, as fresh as dew, and with the usual pleading expression in her eyes. The expression had been introduced to her eyes when her father had refused to give consent to her marriage with Hishey, and had persisted since. To Hishey it seemed rather strange, why she had been giving that look to him instead of her father.

He remembered going to her father to ask for her hand in marriage. He had simply refused, saying that he would have overlooked the difference in caste had he been earning more. The shepherding business did ensure a steady income but it was too low to sustain a family. He had been thinking about it a lot lately. He was considering going to Calcutta to earn quick money, return and start a decent business in Darjeeling.

In the evening while his aunt cooked supper, he sat idly with his uncle. His house was on the hillside. There was something about the house which reminded him about some vague memories. He stared at the wooden vase kept on the window sill. It was a vintage vase. The carvings on it were visible clearly, even from the distance. Whenever he looked at it, his sense of things was heightened. The wood had a sharpness about it. The carvings were so accurate it almost looked like moulded metal. The shine gave it a vintage charm. In the modest surroundings the vase stood out. He could see the reflection of the rotating ceiling fan in the recently varnished surface of the vase. Realizing that time was not on his side he decided to finally ask his uncle what he had been thinking for the past week.

“Uncle, can you give me twenty thousand rupees, for my sheep? You can keep them and when I return I will take them back for twenty five thousand.”

“But why do you want so much money?”

“Uncle, I want to go to Calcutta.”

“What for?”

“To make money. Quick and big.”

“Well, son, you don’t have to sell me the sheep. I will give you the money if you want it, but I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Uncle please, let me do it, for myself.”

XXX

For the first few days he enjoyed travelling in the trams of Calcutta. But soon he got fed up. Wandering here and there he landed in Behala, a suburb of Calcutta. He got himself a job in a fast food joint, serving mutton rolls. As the owner was an old friend of his uncle’s, he just had to mention his name to get the job. His time was passing smoothly, making mutton rolls from 11 in the morning to midnight. But he had not made any further progress. He had no savings after two months. He felt insecure. He started searching for ways to make more money. While he was still pondering over the matter, the owner of the fast-food joint asked him whether he could work in the stationery shop of his brother as he was low on health and needed a helping hand. He said “Okay” absentmindedly.

“Well then, you will be working for him in his shop, and good for you because he will pay you an extra 500 bucks monthly for operating the photocopy machine.”
“Okay, thanks”

The stationery shop was in the same locality, so unsurprisingly he spotted almost the same people around most of the time. A group of boys approached the shop as he sat idly rolling a paperweight.

“Yes?”
“We want these notes photocopied. Four copies each.”
“Okay, but this is a lot of pages. It will take at least two hours to make four copies.”
“Okay, we’ll come tomorrow, but don’t lose the note-book.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care.”

The next evening he spotted another group of boys. These boys also frequented the
food joint.

“Here, take these and make four copies of these notes.”

He saw the cover of the notebook. It appeared to him to be the same that he had copied yesterday. It was the same notebook. Something started to churn in his mind.

“By the way if you don’t mind, what is this notebook all about? Yesterday some boys came by to have these notes copied and now you guys. What is so special about these notes?”

“Can you tell how old these notes are? The boy began to toy with him.

“Seems to me like 5-6 years old.”

“Eight years.” The boy went serious. “See every month at least a hundred boys come to Calcutta to get their license of a Nautical Officer. It’s too late for this month but some of my friends will be coming next month for their examinations. If you could get it printed and make a book out of it, it will fetch you and save them money. You see, a photocopy of this costs us around Rs. 250. A printed book will cost maybe 100 bucks. So that way you can make money, while saving us one night’s beer.” He chuckled.

“But can’t you study from your books?”

“These are notes of one of the best students of the college of all times. These are very precise and reduce the study time very steeply. If I study from books, it’ll take me six months. My examination is due ten days from now.”

“And you’ll pass with ten days’ worth of study?”

“That’s the magic of these notes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Shyam.”

X X X

Shyam looked into the unfinished draft of the book on the computer screen and looked up at Hishey.

“Dude, this is impressive, you typed in the whole text in just five days. But you know, to sell this you also must have all the diagrams in place.”

“Yeah, it will take another week for the diagrams, I guess.”

“I don’t think so. It’s going to take at least fifteen days. I guess I could help you out here. What do you say?”

“I could use your help, but why do you want to help me?”

“For ten percent of your profits. You have very less time and I could use a little cash in advance.” Shyam grinned.

“Deal.”

They worked hard on the diagrams and finished them in five days. Hishey scanned the diagrams in the stationery shop and prepared the finished draft in the next two days. Next, they needed to get it printed.

“Now what?” Asked Shyam.

“We can search for a press and get the book printed. You know anyone?”

“No, but we’ll find one.”

“We have about five days to get the book printed before it’s too late.”

The next day he found a guy who would print the book at fifty bucks a piece. He needed two days for 500 copies.  This was all Hishey needed. He paid him the twenty thousand he had borrowed from his uncle and he agreed to credit the balance till they sold the books.

The next week he sold about a hundred books. He could pay back the printers but he had made no significant profit. The night came and he started to think about Pema. Her face, her eyes, her lips, everything became very vivid in front of his eyes. He felt a lump in his throat and his eyes welled up. But not in a pitiful way; his eyes were sparkling; sparkling with hope and energy. He was determined to make it. He had to marry her. He had to convince her father. He had to make lots of money.

In the morning he woke up and walked to Shyam’s place for a smoke.

“You said that you needed ten days for your examination, so why did you come to Calcutta a month ago?”

“It’s not a rule. Anyways, it’s a good excuse to escape home and those nagging relatives who keep asking ridiculous questions about my career.”

“That’s no reason to leave your home.”

“Yes it is. Don’t judge me; most of the guys do the same thing.”

“Then what do you do all these days in Calcutta?”

“Well, we wander on the Park Street till late at night and most of the times on our way back, we hit the bar on the ground floor of Ajanta Cinema in Behala. Then we sleep all day and again repeat the process in the evening.”

The next night he went down to the Ajanta bar. It was a gloomy place. Sticky table surfaces, cheap dim lighting. Cheap but in their own way tasty, complimentary snacks. The place reeked of stale onions and alcohol. As the night grew so did the temperature of the beer. Apparently they had limited cooling arrangements but the orders kept on pouring nonetheless.

He struck a deal with the owner to put up some posters in the bar advertising the book. He put special emphasis to put the posters under the lights. So much for selling a book.

As he turned to go he spotted Shyam on a table with his three other friends. He went up to the table as Shyam signaled him to join.

“What kind of a place is this?”

“Why what’s wrong with this place?”

“I don’t know, seems kind of sketchy.”

“No it isn’t sketchy; it’s just the sketches haunting your head.” And they burst out in laughter as if it was a hilarious joke. He understood the joke and found it lame. But given that they were each two beers down, he let the snide comment he had in mind pass.

Shyam signaled the waiter for an extra chair which he brought there promptly. He could see why the bar was full; it was because of the excellent service. There was never a delay in the orders, and the bowl of complimentary snack was always full at each table. Plus the location of the bar in the city was unmatched. No one wants to have to worry about finding their way home after getting wasted at a bar.

“So Mr. Hishey, what brings you here?” Shyam dramatically stood up and pointed him towards his chair.

“The same reason you are here.”

“You have serious misgivings as to why I am here.”

“You are here for the beer. What else?”

“You are wrong my friend. I doubt any of the customers of this bar come here for the beer. Beer is the same everywhere.”

“No, it’s not the same. Other places serve cold beer. Anyways, why do you come here?”

“For this.” He pointed towards a tiny bowl of juliennes of ginger impeccably cut and soaked in a mixture of vinegar and lemon juice.

“You come here for this? This is complimentary. You decide over a bar based on its complimentary servings?”

“Beer tastes best with these. I come to have a good time and the ginger gives me exactly that.”

Hishey’s beer arrived and he indulged himself. After having two he began to have a good time.

“So Shyam, tell me about yourself.”

“What?” he burst out laughing. “What are you, my date?”

“No, your friend; I hope.”

“So what do you want to know about me? In about 3-4 months I’ll be making big bucks, that is, as soon as I get my license, I see nothing else you could be interested in.”

“Shyam, that’s what your date will be interested in, and I’m not your date, remember? I’m your friend. Besides don’t flatter yourself. That’s not big bucks; just a little extra.”

“Okay, let’s see. After I gather much money I’ll quit sailing, I’ll maybe open a bar or a pub or something, maybe, play with my band there myself, maybe write and publish some stuff of my own, you know, do what I dream of doing. That’s it.”

“You’re in a band?”

“Not yet formed, but I’ve been working on some lyrics, and I have some friends in Mumbai who are into rock, and they liked the lyrics, and maybe they’ll let me do the vocals as well.”

“You’re clearly drunk.”

“This is what is wrong with the world. If I wasn’t drunk perhaps I wouldn’t have told you all this. But then I wouldn’t be telling you the truth. I believe it’s not my fault that to tell you the truth, I have to do that on the pretext of being drunk. It’s yours, because you need to have a reason to believe your ears when I say things like that. Now, you have a reason to believe your senses because I’m drunk. But otherwise, you might doubt your own ears, because normally, people don’t say things like that. So, to keep your insecurities at bay I have to lie when I am sober. This is what is wrong with the world.”

“What?” Hishey was aghast at this explosion, which he didn’t understand a word of.

“Nothing, you tell me, what you’re up to?”

“Well, it’s not as fancy as your plans.”

“It’s not fancy. It’s real. And don’t try to go off topic. I’m drunk and hence very aware of the happenings.”

“Okay, it’s just that I want to make good money, set up a decent business and marry my love.”

“That’s all? It seems like money is just a means to an end for you. I believe that if you want to make money, it cannot just be a means to an end. It has to be the end. Otherwise you just end up a mediocre. For those who don’t value money that much, its noble, no doubt, but you cannot have your way with money. I’ll tell you an interesting thing; you cannot have just the right amount of money to balance everything out in your life. It never happens that way. Either you’ll end up a middle class man with a receding hairline who has all the time in the world for his family, OR, you’ll end up a man with a receding hairline with a butt load of money but little time for your family. Yeah, money’s a bitch. It will never let you have your way with it. It always is the other way round.”

“Now that’s just a butt load of butt load.”

“Maybe, whatever, but I just think, that you are one who can have his way with money.”

Hishey didn’t reply to that. He kind of blushed.

Shyam continued, “Are you an exotic species?” The table roared with laughter and they acknowledged the presence of the three other friends who had gone obsolete for the past five minutes.

X X X

I will smile

There's a score of years

of history behind me

There's a pool of tears

of mystery the blind see.

When I go I will smile.

Bearing the sarcasm

of those who mind me.

Awaiting the orgasm

of those who bind me.

When I'm released I will smile.

Seething in pain

over wounds they gave me.

Bathing in rain

over grounds my grave be.

When I'm redeemed I will smile.

Hishey read the lyrics from top to bottom.

“I’m impressed dude. This is exceptional. But the theme is a bit shady, isn’t it?”

“What’s wrong with a bit of shade?”

“Absolutely nothing. It will be a hit.”

“Amongst whom?”

“People who love rock.”

“And the people who love to get stoned.”

X X X

Hishey’s book had begun to flourish in the market. And the demand was increasing by the day. It seemed he had finally accomplished what he set out to. Shyam had taken his examination and had passed. He would get his license in about two weeks, and would return to his home in Mumbai. Meanwhile, Shyam had contacted his senior from college to whom the notes belonged and had arranged a meeting between him and Hishey. They formally completed the copyright procedures to go completely legit. Hishey had big plans. Shyam was right. One cannot manhandle money.

Two weeks passed quickly and Shyam returned to his home. In a month he went on his first assignment as a Nautical Officer. Meanwhile in Calcutta, slowly and steadily Hishey began to expand his business. He started by publishing solutions of the mathematics high school text books. While everyone tried to write math books which would attract the students interested in math, and strive to create original problems and their solutions, Hishey did the absolute opposite. He focused on the bigger pool of students having no interest in math, but having to study it anyway as per the high school rules. The flawed education system had 3 books approved for high school math. He contacted all the 3 authors and published the solutions. Obviously the books had absolutely no original content. Well, it didn’t help the kids much in the examinations as the questions set by the board were original, but it did help them complete their home-work in no time. The solutions were a prompt sell-out. His bank account grew fatter and fatter with time.

X X X

It had been a whole year since Shyam and Hishey last saw each other. They had just gone out of contact. He called up his senior whose notes he had published an year ago. His number was saved in the business contacts. He gave him his address. Hishey had a meeting with an author in Mumbai so he took the opportunity to catch up with Shyam.

Hishey was surprised to see Shyam as he answered the door. He was out of shape. A French beard on a swollen face, a year of long unkempt hair, a pair of knickers resting under his belly, and a large freesize tee with a map of Thailand drawn over it.

“Man, what has happened to you?”

“Hishey, how are you man? Its been a whole year. How have you been doing?”

“I’ve been doing good, great in fact. How about you? How is the pub thing going? And your lyrics?”

“Nothing. Just… Anyways, what you’ll have?”

“Anything, dude, just catch me up. What’s, going on in your life?”

“Well, I’m still sailing, gotta go next month. Things didn’t turn out as I had dreamed then, but then who is to tell that was what I had really wanted.”

“What else you could have wanted.”

“Perhaps something which I never had a taste of back then. You’ll have a beer?”

“Two.”

Shyam went inside to get beer. Hishey heard the sound of a key turning the door knob of the apartment. In his mind he wondered who that could be, Shyam’s roommate or his girlfriend or maybe some random chick he was passing his time with? When the intruder revealed herself, Hishey’s mind lost control over his eyes. He forgot to blink them. He gathered all his strength to pick up his dropped jaw and uttered, “Pema.”

X X X

“We got married six months back. Isn’t she cute? You of all people wouldn’t deny that, of course, but believe me, everyone says so.”

“Yeah. She is.” Hishey gulped the beer down, lit up a cigarette and said, “I am here on business. I better get going.”

“Come on dude, you said two remember? You haven’t finished one yet.”

“You didn’t invite me to your wedding; did you not have my number?”

He stubbed his cigarette, looked at his watch, stood up and started to leave.

“You really don’t have time? I’m cooking. It won’t take more than a half hour. Why don’t you guys finish your drink and by that time dinner will be ready.”

‘Why is she doing this?’ Hishey was bewildered. But he stayed.

“Why don’t you join us? We can have food delivered. You shouldn’t cook. Shyam, order something, I don’t feel good your wife has to cook as we celebrate.”

“Sure.” Shyam picked up his phone to order. Pema seemed composed. At least she acted like it.

“Dude, he cannot deliver today, there is no one to deliver.”

“Order from someplace else.”

“Just wait for fifteen minutes, I’ll go get it.”

“Fifteen minutes? What are you, Superman?”

“Batman!”

“I came here to meet you man, just stay.”

“You’ll really like the food, I’ll come back in no time.”

“He does what he wants to, you cannot make him stay.” Pema said with a wry smile.

“I don’t think so.” Hishey retorted. Shyam was gone by the time.

“Why did you do this to me?” Hishey asked in a calm voice.

“Where were you?”

“Preparing for our marriage, I’m sorry my marriage.”

“So you were busy making money. How much did you think my father would have expected?”

“How would I know?”

“You set out to make money for our marriage and you didn’t know how much?”

“Don’t try to intimidate me with your words of rational argument.”

“When were you going to stop and come back for me? Give me an honest answer and I’ll admit it was my fault.”

“I am not saying its your fault.”

“Well, then what are you saying?”

“I am saying that I have come now.”

“You cannot do this. I cannot do this.”

“I will.”

“No!” Pema cried out. “Please.”

“You love him?”

Pema looked up at him with blurry eyes.

“Give me an honest answer and I’ll go away.”

“Yes, I do.”

“That’s not honest. It cannot be. You know that.”

“Whatever it was between me and you, it is over.”

“Just tell me one thing; you did not elope with me, how come you married him? Does your father approve of your marriage with him?”

“Did you ever ask me to elope with you?”

In this moment he remembered the pleading look which he had encountered in her eyes back then, and he realized what it implied. She had never asked him to earn money and please her father. She had just wanted him to believe her that she’ll go with him whenever, wherever, and however he asked. He just didn’t ask.

“It was my fault.” Hishey reclined in his chair, defeated.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. He’s my friend.  What would you do? I deserve it. I should have had the courage to ask you.”

“You had the courage, that’s why you are so successful. What you didn’t have was belief, in me.”

“Can I start to believe in you now?”

“I cannot do this. I am a grown up now. Do you expect me to elope with you now?” The pleading gaze reappeared. They heard the sound of a key turning the door knob.

“Just don’t say anything.” Hishey hissed. Pema was shocked to find herself disappointed.

Hishey noticed the look in her eyes. In the next moment he gambled. He didn’t seem to have a fair idea of the odds, or of the objects he was gambling over, but nevertheless he did.

“Shyam, I just realized I never told you who the love of my life was. I think it’s pretty late now, but I think you should at least know why I am doing this.”

He held Pema’s hand. The warmth of her hand assured him that he had the winning hand in his hand.

“What is this, some old text book prank? So this is how I find my wife is a good sport?”

“It is the truth.” Hishey said.

“Seriously, what has happened to you? You’re just two beers down and you are already drunk?”

Hishey took out a piece of crumpled but nicely folded piece of paper from his pocket and started reading it.

“This is what is wrong with the world. If I wasn’t drunk perhaps I wouldn’t have told you all this. But then I wouldn’t be telling you the truth. I believe it’s not my fault that to tell you the truth, I have to do that on the pretext of being drunk. It’s yours, because you need to have a reason to believe your ears when I say things like that. Now, you have a reason to believe your senses because I’m drunk. But otherwise, you might doubt your own ears, because normally, people don’t say things like that. So, to keep your insecurities at bay I have to lie when I am sober. This is what is wrong with the world.”

They stormed out.

X X X

Fifteen years is a long time. Trends in music change very fast. Sometimes, they return. Hishey realized the fact even as he found a CD with the cover reading “The Insoluble” on his teenager son’s table. He inserted it into the player.

The slower layer of the composition appealed to him. The beat took him over and he literally jumped as he heard the very first lyrics.

There's a score of years

of history behind me

There's a pool of tears

of mystery the blind see.

When I go I will smile.

Bearing the sarcasm

of those who mind me.

Awaiting the orgasm

of those who bind me.

When I'm released I will smile.

Seething in pain

over wounds they gave me.

Bathing in rain

over grounds my grave be.

When I'm redeemed I will smile.

Pema saw him rocking away into sleep with the broadest smile on his face she had ever seen.

X X X

THE TRAIN

The train moved on. The sound of the moving train synchronized with the pitter-patter of raindrops on the steel roof. Together, both the sounds created a symphony. He thought of Kahlil Gibran, who wrote that two pillars can’t stand together. They should be wide apart in order to give strength to a structure. But what if the structure wasn’t meant to be? Hadn’t he seen the Stonehenge? What if two pillars, standing together were complete in themselves leaving no room for any other part of structure? Inquisitions, inquisitions. Why anything on earth has to have a purpose? And if it is so, what is the purpose of existence? He kept on thinking as the symphony kept on playing.

The train entered a tunnel. He watched the darkness outside the window. It was his tunnel. He had built it. In the process, he had also created darkness. The darkness inside the tunnel. The darkness was monotonous. It never seemed to change. Time seemed to have frozen. But his watch ticked and made him keep realizing the reality. The reality of time. Time goes on while one is stuck in a moment for years. It had happened with him. Time had wounded him. Time had healed him.

The memories flashed past him in the darkness of the tunnel. A darkness which he had created. They flashed past him like a motion picture.

Ten years ago he had passed high school. With flying colours. He had been happy. For himself and his girlfriend, Kate. James Miller and Kate Watson were the most happening thing of the school. He had topped the state and she was behind him by a fraction of the percentage. And it was the start.

She wanted to become an archaeologist. He, an engineer. He wanted to build bridges. She wanted to dig mounds. He wanted to cover the gaps. She wanted to uncover the facts. She went on to study history. He went on to study science. She went into the best department of archaeology. He went to the best technical university. She went North. He went South.

They’d call each other on weekends. She’d ask, “So, how’s it going?”
“It’s going well. All’s fine.”
“Yeah, same here.” Then would follow a long pause until one of them had to say “Guess I’ve got to go now. Got some chores to finish. You know, laundry and all. I get a bit of time for these things only on weekends.” And then they’d hang up. After that he’d resume working on his model and she’d resume shuffling through her papers and journals.

He had never thought what would become of them. He’d never thought of the future. With him and her together. It once occurred to him. And out of his anxiety he astonished her by calling her up on a weekday.
“Hey Kate.”
“Hi Jim.”
“I suddenly realized we’re soon going to be in a fix.”
“I know that. Do you mind if I call you up in the evening? I’m listening to a lecture right now.”
“Okay.”
He felt relieved. He felt as if his burden now lay buried deep inside the earth and she would excavate it, decode the manuscript and come out with the solution. He smiled at the thought.

At four in the evening she called.
“Hi Jim.”
“Hi.”
“Where are you putting up? Just tell the address.”
“You’re sending over some stuff, or what?”
“Just dictate your address, will you?”
At eleven in the night she knocked on his door.
“I was just waiting for you to take up the matter. I’ll be staying till weekend.” She said as she entered his apartment.
“Why did you have to wait for me to take up the matter? Anyways, okay.” He paused for a moment.
“Kate...” he continued and was interrupted.
“We can do the talking in the morning. Right now I’m tired Jim.” She bore a strange look in her eyes. As if she was pleading. As if she was about to undergo a waxing session and wanted to take her time getting prepared for it.
“Are you hungry?” he asked after a pause.
“What do you have?”
“Some cold meat. Besides I also have a gas connection and a kitchen.”
“Okay, go cook some hot junk. I’ll freshen up by the time.”
While having dinner they almost didn’t see each other. Just talked. About other things.
“So how’s everything going?”
“Uh, nothing much, history classes. Mesopotamian civilization. I guess I’ll take that up for my research.”
“Good.”
“And you?”
“Research is not the first thing I have in mind. I want to do things right away. But I’ll have to graduate. All construction firms require a degree to recruit.”
“Doing things means what?”
“Building things.”
“Bridges, tunnels, ropeways, railroads, is that it? Its all very material.”
“What is wrong in being material?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I think we should sleep now.”
“Yeah. You hit the bed. I’ll bang on the couch.”
“Why not vice-versa?”
“What does it matter Kate? Anyways, you’re my guest.” He laughed.
In the morning, she woke him up at six.
“Listen Jim, I have a solution. At least for the time being.”
“What?” he asked rubbing his eyes.
“Let’s just not give it too much importance.”
“To what?”
“Our relationship.”
“That’s your solution?”
“Perhaps the best one.”
“What an entry, and what an exit!”
They spent the weekend lazily lying in the room, looking at each other, ordering pizzas and getting drunk. She left on Sunday evening.

X X X

The train had stopped. It was a hydraulic failure. He sat still. As before, time stood still. The light inside was the same. The darkness outside was the same. It was only the one sudden jolt that marked the stoppage. Otherwise there was not much difference. The technology which he had propagated into the rails and the train, lifted the train up by half an inch above the rails. In the air. The train then moved on the magnetic field. No friction, no jerks. Efficiency and pleasure. He was a pleasure seeker. He was bound to make progress. For himself and the mankind.But there was a jolt which marked this event of progress. Only the jolt. Otherwise he couldn’t tell the difference. An event is a time marker. So was this jolt. It had occurred seven years ago. The motion picture resumed.

The Sunday night was longer than expected. After she had left, he dreamed. In his dream he made love. To Kate. The next morning he tried calling her but she didn’t pick up. Then he didn’t call. Neither did she.
He toiled from then onwards. He broke all his old models, adopted a new approach and started from scratch. The magnet became his soul mate. He cut it into various shapes and angles and observed the effects on his model. It worked for a few seconds everytime, and then collapsed. He knew it was going to take a long time. Meanwhile, he kept on topping the examinations. The girls on the campus kept on hitting on him. Pestering him. He didn’t give attention. A year passed.

She called one day.
“Do you mind me getting into a relationship? With another guy?”
“You only said we’ll give it less importance, not that you wanted to end it.”
“First of all, let me tell you that ‘less’ and ‘no’ are not synonymous. And secondly, I don’t want to end it. I will never want to end it. Its just that my body has needs.”
“Can I come over this weekend?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Its just that my body has needs.”
“Wow.”
She hung up.

He took some flowers on the way. He rang the doorbell. She opened the door. They kissed. He realised the difference between pleasure and satisfaction. Its pleasure which culminates in exaltation when one discovers happiness. Satisfaction is the follow-through. Without pleasure there could be no satisfaction.
Lying with her on his side was satisfaction. Kissing her was pleasure. Making love to her was exaltation.
“You’re beautiful.” He said.
She nodded simply. Her lips widened, only a bit, and her eyes sparkled. This was happiness.
“Why did you say that?” she asked.
“I felt like saying it; I felt a strong desire to say that, stronger than ever.

He returned the next day. This time his model worked for about an hour. This time he had cut the magnet into the right shape and the correct angle. It gradually got better and better over the next two years. He worked frantically over it. He’d spend his weekdays on his model and weekends at Kate’s place. One Friday evening, he changed the shape of the magnet very slightly. He then left for Kate’s home. He didn’t bother switching it off as it was anyways going to collapse in a couple of hours. He spent the two days with Kate. She had grown lovelier by the day. They both were in a very nice mood. For the first time he didn’t think about his model while being with her. These two years had passed very slowly for him. He had always been in stress. But that day something about him was telling altogether a different story. He was happy. They spent the weekend fashionably. They got drunk. Went shopping. Cooked together. Made love. When he returned, his model train was still running. It had been running for more than two days continuously without collapsing. His train was ready. He marvelled at his innovation. He took pride in what he was about to bestow on the mankind. The train did not rest on the rails. No contact. No friction. No power loss. Better efficiency. No jerks.

But the jerks are always there. She called him that very day.
“Hello Jim.”
“Hi Kate, I’ve just made it. It worked for two days and didn’t collapse.”
“Well, congratulations Jim. But isn’t it me who has made the call?”
“Yes.”
“So let me do the talking.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened. I just called to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Will you marry me?”
“Of course! Who else,” he paused, “will marry you?” and he burst into a childish laughter.
“Will you marry me now?”
“What do you mean ‘now’?”
“Say, a couple of weeks or a month?”
“Are you kidding? I’m still in college, an undergraduate!”
“Just say yes or no Jim.” Her words were strong but her voice was frail. Just like a kid who has done bad in the paper but has come to see the result with a slight hope of passing.
“Why are you being so difficult?”
“Easy is not worth you Jim.”
“I cannot support you right now. This is unreasonable.”
“I never asked for support.”
“Okay, for that matter, I cannot afford to get married.”
“That means a no. Right?”
“Yes. That means a no. But why suddenly this shocker?”
“Don’t ask questions. I called you. I’m done talking with you. So, good bye.” She hung up.

He didn’t have time to ponder over this conversation. He engrossed himself in thinking where he’ll run his train. The streets were crowded. There were already too many overbridges. The only feasible option was a tunnel. He’ll have to build a network of tunnels in the city. He still had one year in college. He started gathering information on tunnel building. In his last semester he opted for a specialisation course in tunnels. He didn’t want to do something together with someone. He didn’t believe in sharing success.

The next year he graduated. He got his plans approved by the city administration. The government hired him. He promised to bring down the street traffic to one-fifth. To bring down the effective travelling time to one-third. To bring down the cost of travel by a factor of one and a half. And he fulfilled these promises in the next two years. The promises made to the government and the tax-payer. He had forgotten the promises he made to himself.
Gradually he ventured into other cities. It became a national project. The intra-city railway gradually grew up into transcontinental railroad, covering Mexico and Brazil over the next two years. The project became the nation’s pride. James Miller had become a national hero.

X X X

There was a sudden jolt once again. The hydraulic failure had been rectified and the train had started moving. He thought perhaps he should propose to replace the hydraulic mechanism with the latest electronic control systems. In his mind he started calculating. No, not feasible. The cost of installation will be too high, let alone the cost of the systems. And then he’ll have to collaborate with the electronics guy. The idea had to be rejected. He’d have to endure the occasional jolts for the time being. An attendant came to him and asked whether he wanted something. He asked for some wine. Time was going on. As usual. He was stuck in a moment. The motion picture resumed once again.

He was a success now. He wanted to celebrate it. He wanted Kate. He tried to call her but her number was out of use. He didn’t have any contact of her. He searched the telephone directory. Her name wasn’t there. Perhaps she had moved out of the city. He searched for Christina, her best friend in school. She must be having her contact. Yes, she had. But she won’t tell.
“For god’s sake Christina, why can’t you give me her number?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“I need her number.”
“Well, your need for something is not a license to it. You don’t deserve her. You don’t even deserve her number.”
This was the trigger. He didn’t know there could be something HE didn’t deserve. That there could be something he needed. So badly.
“How can you decide what I deserve?”
“After what you’ve done to her, even a street urchin can decide against you. Anyways, I have her number, to put it straight, and Iam not going to give it to you.”
“Very well, I need it. How do I buy it?”
“You’re out of your mind. You don’t buy money. You earn money so you can buy stuff. Stuff that makes you happy. You want to buy Kate! Loser, you ought to have earned her. And then you could’ve bought your happiness.” She started crying bitterly.
“Okay Christina, listen, I wasn’t even a graduate then. I don’t know what sort of a whim of hers was that, why she started behaving like that. How could I marry her and ruin all the success which we can now together celebrate? I declined her not for myself but for us.”
“Do you even know who that ‘us’of yours include?”
“What do you mean?”
“It includes a child also Mr. James Millers. Do you even know that?”
“No. She... she didn’t tell me.” He stammered.
“You’re a father Mr. Millers and you don’t know that. What a shame!”
“Please tell me her address.”
“You want to build a tunnel and a railroad to her house, do you? Please just go away.”
“Okay, I’ll go. Don’t tell me where she is. But can you at least enlighten me on what happened to her? How and when?”
“I admire your guts. Well, when she asked you to marry her, she was pregnant. She didn’t tell you but I know what hell she went through. She started working part time as a waitress. Freelanced her articles, and sold her journals to another historian researching on the same subject. It paid her well, but her career was ruined. It allowed her enough money to give the child a birth and an upbringing. She continued her part time job and meanwhile researched too, on her own. She started from scratch, this time working on the Egyptian civilisation. About a week ago, she got an offer to join a team of archaeologists as a junior assistant.”
“How did she complete her graduation?”
“Kate’s mother chipped in to help her daughter out. Her mother looked after the infant when she wrote her exams. She is still living with her.”
“Okay, that means she’s in Egypt. Thank you very much. Just one more question.”
“What?”
“How do I earn her?”
“I don’t know. How do I know? Please leave now.”
“Thank you, Christina.”

The next day when Christina was out of her house at work, James Miller broke into her house, searched the diaries and the notebooks and extracted Kate’s address. She was in Cairo. Just when he was leaving, he bumped into Christina at the door.
“What are you doing here?”
“You told me to earn her. You didn’t tell me how.”
“I never said that you could break into my house.”
“Well, you implied that, didn’t you?”
“I’m calling the police.”
“Go to hell.”
“Disappear from here within ten minutes, or I’m going to really call them.”
“You don’t always imply what you say. Isn’t it?”
“The airport’s that way.” She smiled as she pointed her finger towards a lane.
“Good bye, Christina.”

He had the address. He couldn’t wait. There he was at her doorstep. On the way he had picked up some flowers. He rang the doorbell. She opened the door. They kissed. Her mother watched. The three year old watched. No one said anything. Finally he broke the silence.
“Will you marry me?”
“You’re in America, and I’m here in Africa. How are you going to make it work?”
“You can’t ask for a transfer in America?”
“I’ve researched on the Egyptian civilisation. What will I do in America?”
“You don’t need to.”
“You’re asking me to quit my job?”
“No. Not you alone. Lets both of us quit. Together.”
“Together? Since when did you start working ‘together’ with someone?”
“Since yesterday.”
“And you expect results right away?”
“No, this is my first step.”
“Anyways, how do you plan to make it work with both of us quitting our jobs?”
“We have enough savings.”
“They are your savings. Not ours.”
“That’s not true.” He said in a feeble voice.
“That is one ultimate truth.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Go away.”
“But we just kissed and I thought you were quite engrossed in it.”
“That was a call of the moment.”
“Nothing else?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m pleading you Kate.”
“Please don’t do that.’
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That too was a call of the moment. Afterwards, it was too late.”
“Is there no way we can be together?”
“It’s you who has to figure it out.”
He put the flowers gently on the table, and left, bewildered. Without another word. He took a flight and reached America the next day. Then he took a rail ticket and boarded a train bound for the suburb where he lived. Thus started the journey.

X X X

There was a sudden jolt, the last one, and the train stopped. The motion picture ended. He had reached his station. He alighted on the platform and walked towards his house. On the way, he discovered something. And he felt the pleasure of the discovery growing in his veins. At the doorstep of his house, he paused and retraced his steps.

X X X

While he was on his fateful train journey, towards his home, Kate and her mother were involved in a conversation. Her mother asked the first question.
“Why did you have to do this?”
“What?”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“Yes, he is. He’s the most honest man I’ve ever met.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“What?”
“Did you hear a word of love during the entire conversation?”
“I can’t understand. No.”
“Well, that’s it. He implies only what he says. And he says what all he implies. He wants to be with me because he thinks me worthy of himself. I like him for his honesty. Since I met him twelve years ago, he has never said he loves me. He doesn’t love me.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.” She felt helpless.
“But you too never told him.”
“I guess I am not as honest as him.”
“You’re not dishonest, you’re an idiot.”
Her mother said, irritated.
She let out a sigh. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started crying, once again the same way, on her mother’s shoulder as she used to, when she was a child. The only difference being that her mother didn’t have to kneel this time.

X X X

The next day he was in Egypt at her doorstep. Again. He didn’t take flowers. He rang the doorbell. She opened the door.
“Kate,” he paused.
“Say it.” She gasped.
“I love you.”

X X X

A LOSER’S FIRST LOVE

It was autumn. But for Aksionov it was spring. It was always spring for him. Hope blossomed in his heart every time he saw a girl and the petals of the flower in bloom kept on falling until there were none left and by this time a new flower, of a new, different species would bloom in his heart. Despite so much hope and positive attitude he couldn’t manage to find a single girl for himself. Literally. Incidentally, one girl who managed to find Aksionov turned out to be married, not “single” and sadly enough very much disappointed by Aksionov as he would not offer his services to her.

And to view the above statement in a different light, despite these many countless failures he didn’t lose hope and always donned a positive attitude. Well, one day, one fine autumn day this happened. The clown turned into a dramatist. The farce turned into a play. He met this girl, Natasha Aporova, and fell in love for the first time in his life. The girl was different. The one whom he wanted to be with.

And the one whom she wanted to be with . . .That seemed to be altogether a different matter. It was not that she wanted to be with someone else, perhaps no one, but at least she didn’t seem to want to be with Aksionov. She was fed up of boys following her, peeping into her window. She shut the window so hard that the sound of it shattered Aksionov’s heart to pieces.

What happened was that things couldn’t settle for Aksionov and his condition went bad. And from bad to worse. Well, this man Aksionov, twenty-two, quite an aged man for a thing called first love, was in no mood to let his first love fade away. It had to be substantial. At least the memories had to be substantial. Moreover, he didn’t want to regret later that he didn’t give it a try. So he made the most common mistake. He made haste.

“Hi Natasha” he yelled at her one fine Sunday morning, his voice unusually loud with enthusiasm. It was only on Sundays he could see her. The other six days he didn’t get leave to get out of his academy. He was a cadet in the merchant marine academy of St. Petersburg.
“Hi” she returned, her voice unusually low, merely louder than a whisper. Yet he heard her loud and clear.
“So, how are you doing?”
“Just fine.”
“Could we talk over coffee for some time?” Aksionov blurted out.
“Uh, okay.” She shrugged and shook her head at the same time making a very strange gesture.
And so they started walking towards the café. It was about at a distance of a ten minutes walk. All the time during the seemingly never ending walk, he kept on thinking how he’ll do the whole week without brandy the money meant for which he was going to spend on the coffee with her. It was autumn but St. Petersburg was cold. ‘I’ll do something about it later’ he thought. At last the walk ended and so did his thinking. And once again he couldn’t explain to himself the reason to why he had stopped thinking as soon as he stopped walking. What was the connection?

He shook his head, composed himself and brushed aside such ideas to avoid acting weird in front of her. And then it happened.
“I, er . . . need to talk to you.”
‘Oh what a line. What an opening line to the conversation. What a genius! Poetry!!’ He cursed himself.
“Uh . . . yeah. I mean that’s why we are here, aren’t we?” She said with a tone of contempt in her voice. She further inquired, as though unknowingly, “By the way, what is it you need to talk about to me?”
“I think you know it.”
“I don’t think I do.”
“Yes you do”
“But I don’t”
“Yes you do”
“But I don’t.”
“I love you.”
“But I don’t.”
“I said I love you.”
“And I said I don’t.”

This had hurt him. Slaps from all directions on his face. Left. Right. Centre. It must have hurt him. Men are supposed to get hurt. They are supposed to have that ego. That masculinity.
“Very well then,” he said, “Pay for the coffee. I’ll rather have my week’s brandy.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I think I need to walk.” He stood up, turned back and walked away.

x x x

Captain Raze Aksionov, a fine officer on the cruise “Ocean’s Paradise” was on his maiden voyage as the vessel’s master. A young, promising marine officer. It was rare for an officer so young to be the master of the Ocean’s Paradise. But for his abilities and achievements rare for a mariner his age, he achieved the feat.

The ship, on a voyage from St. Petersburg, Russia to Sydney, Australia had rich businessmen, entrepreneurs, executives, landlords of various estates on board. The bourgeoisie class. These were the people who were self-made without any assistance from anyone, not even their predecessors. This was something he liked about them.

“Hey Raze”, shouted someone from behind as the master was standing on the bridge observing the ship’s proceeds. “Who allowed you up here?” he spat and realized the very next moment that he knew the voice as well as the face.
The face had accumulated a bit of bulk and the voice had an enhanced shrill of excitement as always had been.
“You know I can always make it.” He was Sally, his old school friend.
“As soon as I came to know you’re the master, I couldn’t resist coming up to the bridge. Although I know I’m unauthorized.”
“That you are. As always.” He grinned.
“So, what have you been doing?”
“Well, you can see.”
“Yeah. You quite made something out of yourself, huh?”
“I love this life.” He didn’t want to answer in the affirmative or the negative. His glance had a sense of pride and achievement. It was as if he didn’t want to tell anything about his hardships and struggles, he just wanted the world to acknowledge, not to compare his past and present.
“I too love this life. All your life you are on a cradle, just like a kid. And you are the one rocking the cradle just like a parent. You get to be the kid and the guardian at the same time. That’s fascinating.”
“You are good at putting a thought to anything. Everything rather.”

Sally grinned and the conversation paused for a moment.
“The weather is calm and its open sea. You can stay easy. Eh?” Sally tried to rekindle the conversation.
“Rather, got to be more alert. The calm is unusual. An indication of an approaching storm.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It can’t be ruled out. I’d say it’s very much probable.”
“The voyage is going to be exciting my friend.”
“Yeah, for some.”

More often than not it happened with him that he couldn’t hit upon the precise words for starting or carrying on a conversation. And he hated this. This time he didn’t want the conversation to cease, so without further wasting time on thinking what to say and what not, he took liberty, rather liberated himself, in asking him, “What have you been doing all these years. Uh . . . I know this had to be a bit earlier but you know that’s the way it is with me. My timing is always so incorrect.”
“Uh . . . not too much, just handling my father’s business you see, it’s awfully boring.”
“Got any girl?”
“Yeah, you can say. I’d rather say she’s got me.”
“What, you’ve not proposed to her yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Well, take your time, and more importantly, give her the time. Don’t, under any circumstances, try to make haste. This is important.”
“Whoa man!! What’s going on? I never thought you would give suggestions to anyone on such a subject.” Sally gave him a look that suggested that he and all others thought of him as a geek. But Sally’s look was innocent. Absolute truth. He was a geek. Desperate. Sincere. Rich.
“Life is strange” he murmured.
“Anyways, why not join us at dinner tonight?”
“Sure.”

The calm infused in him a turbulence of a degree equal to that of the calm. His mind rose and fell against the memories like waves breaking on the vessel’s hull, as he went back to those days, thinking about Natasha. He looked at the horizon. It was copper red. Suddenly out of nowhere black clouds emerged. The vessel started rolling as if in synchronism with his mind. The sky went black. And gradually the wind turned gale. The storm seemed to him to be a manifestation of his own thoughts. The ship started to roll heavily. He called his mate and told him to make arrangements and take precautions against heavy weather.
“Ensure no crew or passengers are on deck, and take a headcount.”
“Yes sir.” Replied the mate and walked out of the bridge.

Aksionov looked at the hazy horizon. He fancied a different world on the other side of the haze. He tried to approach the hazy wall but couldn’t come close to it. No matter how fast the ship would move towards the wall but the distance seemed to be constant. He couldn’t understand why so desperately he wanted to reach the horizon.

“Master, a passenger is missing.” Cried the mate as Aksionov came out of the trance.
“What?”
“A lady. Russian. Miss Natasha Aporova.”
Thunder struck. His jaw dropped. He went numb. And dumb.
“Search on the deck. All the accommodation. Everywhere.” He somehow managed to babble out this much.

He couldn’t stop himself going on the deck. Holding on to the railings and donning a life-jacket, he went ahead towards the forecastle. At the forward end he saw a feminine figure lying unconscious. He ran, still holding on to the railings. Just then the vessel rolled. To a greater degree. The hawsers coiled and stowed near the bulwark, acted as an incline, from the deck to the gunwale, and she rolled over the incline and fell into the water. Aksionov jumped after her. He had hoped that the seamen would have slung the scrambling nets on ship’s sides. And so they had. His luck was unusually favorable that day.

He caught hold of her by the hair, took her by her waist and laboriously brought her up, ascending on to the scrambling nets on the ship’s side. He took her to his cabin and warmed her. Then he saw her face. Calm and serene. Clear forehead. Sharp nose. Transparent lips. Black hair. She appeared not to have changed much since he had last met her. And then he saw his own face. His eyes. Love? Hate? No, love. His eyes sparkled and lips widened. He couldn’t hate her. He had never stopped loving her. His life had been banal despite his adventurous and exciting profession. He needed to re-originate that dimension. He needed to find someone. He had lost and found this girl. Was this a sign?

Somebody rang the telephone in his cabin. “Hey captain, my girl’s missing.” It was Sally’s panic-struck voice. ‘What, another passenger missing? But the mate said there was only one.’ Then he stammered, “h-her name’s Natasha or what?”
“Yeah.”
“Come up. I got her.”
“You got her?”
“I lost her.” He whispered to himself.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just come up.”

He entered the cabin and the vessel rolled. Or it can be said that the vessel rolled and he entered. Her body rolled and she started to fall from her bed. Aksionov stooped and caught hold of her and their breaths fused. And diffused in the atmosphere. Her cold face exuding warmth. And a fragment of time which was to measure a fraction of a second started ticking. And as the ticking started she opened her eyes.
“Why do you keep haunting me in my dreams?”
“Well, this isn’t a dream.”
‘Or is it?’ he thought.
The ticking continued. Sally pretended not to have seen anything. Aksionov actually couldn’t see anything beyond her face. And Natasha had once again closed her eyes. So, Aksionov was all set to fall into the trap, once again.

Falling in love is easy, just like a trap, you go in and there’s no way out. The poacher is cruel, never lets you go and yet you are gone. Where to? No one knows. He hurts you, may be unintentionally, but he doesn’t care too if you are hurt. He carries you to the fire and slaughters you there, if he’s merciful. Otherwise he just roasts you alive. And before doing that he never forgets to get himself snapped standing over you (or your corpse, whatever the case may be).
This has been happening for millennia. Cupid shoots, the prey falls (in love), and the poacher tramples it and devours the flesh. Can’t he be content eating vegetables?

The fragment of time was nearing its end and to mark it, Sally broke in. “How’s she?”
“I’m okay.” She said in a frail voice, Aksionov still bent over her.
“Well Captain, I think she’s alright and doesn’t now need resuscitation, so I think you can now relax and straighten yourself.”
“Oh yeah, here she is, all yours.” Then he turned to her, “And ma’am please change your clothes, otherwise you’ll get a cold. And that’s not one of the better things to experience while on board”
“Thank you, uh, Raze” she said.
“I need to walk . . . er . . . think. I got work to see to. Take care.”
“You know him?” sally turned to her. By the time she had already closed her eyes. “Okay, good way to say yes. Wake up. You got to change clothes.”

The storm was over.

x x x

The next morning was a bit cold but the sun was showing. People were enjoying the weather on deck. Aksionov spotted Natasha amidst a gathering and went up to her.
“So, uh, how are you feeling now?” She turned towards him. Her face had a tinge of pink. A streak of her black hair all the way from her forehead over her eye pointing towards her slightly parted lips, suggested a sharp smooth contrast.
“I’m fine. How are you? I had never thought we’d meet again”
“Neither had I. Where’s Sally by the way?”
“He’s gone to sleep.”
“On such a nice morning?”
“Yeah. He sat beside me all the night to keep a watch on my fever.”
“It was very considerate of him.”
“He’s a nice friend to have.”
“Friend . . .yeah.”
“Let’s move to the café.”
“The weather’s nice here on the deck. I can arrange coffee here if you like.”
“I’d insist we go to the café.”
“Let’s go then.”
They occupied the corner table permanently reserved for the master. Once again Aksionov started. “So how’ve you been?”
“I’ve been fine. Tell me about your life.”
“Nothing much to tell. I did nothing but sailed and sailed. To the Bahamas, India, Africa, America, Australia. I didn’t go to Antarctica though.” He chuckled dryly.
“Quite exciting” She said with a wry smile.
“What will you have?”
“Anything will do.”
“Espresso will be fine?”
“Perfect. You remember that?”
“What?”
“That I had ordered espresso that day.”
“Which day?”
“The last time we met.”
“Oh. No I don’t. I just guessed you’ll like it.”
“I’m sorry about that day. I shouldn’t have been so rude.”

This had once again hurt him. It was like removing a bullet from his bosom which had been fired ten years ago. Today the pain caused by excavating the scar had been far greater than when it was fired. He had got used to the bullet embedded in his heart. Now, performing a surgery to remove the bullet, without administering any anesthetic, was certain to hurt.

She continued to hurt.

“I thought you were just one of those boys running after me, just because I seemed pretty to them. They knew nothing about me. They just wanted to walk around with me. In the same manner as one takes a victory lap after winning an Olympic medal. I didn’t want to be a trophy of anyone’s victory over my existence and be showcased in his drawing room. I was being very judgmental.” Her eyes were pleading. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were really in . . .” She couldn’t complete her sentence.

He had interrupted. As if unable to bear the pain he had to cry out ‘It does hurt me.’ Only the words were a bit different.
“Well, now it doesn’t matter”
“It does. You were mad after me. Weren’t you?”
“It’s not that I was mad after you. I was just mad.”
“Is it really so?”
“It was really so”
She remained silent. And it was then that the venom found its way out.
“And by the way how do you now know that I was not–just–one–of–those–boys? Is it my money? My status? Is that why you are ready to dump Sally and be with me? Poor, poor Sally, eh?”
There was no answer. She took some time to recover from her state of shock. “I can’t believe you just said that.” This was all she could say.
“Oh come on Natasha, tell me the truth. Show up your mean side.” The bullet was out. Out of his heart.
She stood up and started to leave. At the door, she turned, came back and looked into his eyes. Her red eyes fumed as she said, “That day I misjudged you. Today, I did that again. I’m sorry for you.”
“Don’t be. Not for me.”
She left.

He shouted “You’re doing Sally or what?”

She left forever.

x x x