Smile Seller

The Smile Seller

Most of us live in a euphemistic world. We all wish to project our lives, our jobs as more important than they actually are. So, an outlet serving one paneer sabji and hakka noodles would label itself a ‘multicuisine restaurant’. A medical intern would call himself ‘junior doctor’ even though all he does is to collect lab reports and other menial works.

It was my first day of the ‘School Health Services’ campaign. I cursed the government for once again trying to gulp more than it could chew. Sending just one intern and two health workers to assess the health of 1500 students is, if nothing else, atrocity. Actually, a qualified doctor is supposed to go, but then, if there is only one doctor manning an entire health centre alone, he will definitely not be inclined to go to lower rung schools to check students. Cursing the government and the the world in general, I entered a classroom, only to be greeted by what should be expected in a Municipal School’s 8th grade classroom- utter chaos. I banged on my hand on the table, which quivered a little under the forceful impact.

“Anybody with fever, difficulty in seeing, or any other disease?” I shouted my lungs out, while the health workers were busy recording the heights and weights of the kids. Nobody stepped out. Sighing, I stood up and stepped out of the class, only to repeat the exercise in the next class. And the next. By the time I reached the last classroom, my lungs were begging me to stop shouting. Not a single kid stepped out and those who did, only came to me for some mundane complaint. It was an exercise in boredom. As I was stepping out from the hellish experience and gulping down a much needed glass of water, I felt a hand tapping my back. I turned around with an irritated look.

“Yes! What is the problem?” I asked tersely.

“Sir, I am feeling weak,” the kid who tapped my back answered.

“So? Why didn’t you come to me when I came in your class? You think you’re a VIP?” I shouted, a tad unnecessarily, a revelation of hindsight.

“They all would laugh at me sir,” he managed to stammer it out. I noticed a solitary tear escape his right eye. It was then that I realized that this kid was afraid of me. Never having felt that sensation of being feared, I knelt down and patted him on the back and asked, “See, I won’t make fun of you, I won’t scold you. Now tell me what the problem is.”

“Sir, I feel weak. High fever. And I feel shivers at night,” he stammered in broken Gujarati. They were classical symptoms of malaria. I asked him to come to the health centre the next day with either of his parents to get the medication and gave him dietary advice.

“But sir, I won’t be able to come with papa. He cannot leave his work. And ma will not come.”

“Why? Why your mother will not come?”

“Because she can’t.,” saying this, he ran away, leaving me wondering. Upon asking the headmistress, I learnt that his name was Raju and his father sold balloons. I decided to visit his father, just on a whim. In any case, I had missed my date that day and planned to make up with my girlfriend with the help of some good balloons. A little more enquiry directed me to his whereabouts.

It was one of Ahmedabad’s typical evenings. Loud, pollution laced, and yet serene, as if indicating that the madness of the day is done and a new day will dawn soon. I was led by Raju to his father. He was standing with a smile and stick, on which various balloons of different shapes and colors were hung. That was when I noticed something peculiar. All the balloons had a tag on them, with something written. I leaned a little to read it. On each tag, a different note was written.

“Tara nu vaahlu. Tara nu gamtu. Tara ni pasand” I read them aloud, Tara’s beloved, Tara likes, Tara’s choice. I looked at him, befuddled.

“Tara is my wife, sir. Raju’s mother. I name all my balloons after her. She is no more in this world,” the man explained.

“Oh, I am sorry. What is your name?”

“Veerji Makwana. Saaheb, what is wrong with my Raju?”

“Well, nothing. He has malaria. Here are the tablets,” I handed him the Chloroquine tablets which I had taken from the Health Centre’s pharmacy and gave him instructions on how to give them to his son.

“Thank you saaheb. How much do I have to pay you?” he shuffled his pocket. I could hear a few clinks of coins.

“Nothing,” I replied firmly, “but if you want to give me something, give me your best balloon.” Veerji took out a beautiful heart shaped balloon and handed it over to me, “Saaheb, take this. Your girlfriend will be very happy!”

“How do you know I am taking it for my girlfriend?” I asked, surprised.

“I am in the selling smiles for years now. Experience!” he replied smiling. I joined in with a shy smile too, before realizing something strange.

“Selling smiles?” I asked.

“Yes. Whenever people buy my balloons, they smile. For ten rupees, I give them a smile. Now, you tell me, is there a place where we can get a smile so cheap?”

That man, I wondered, could have beaten a management graduate had he been to IIM, I wondered, as I walked away.

I was to be posted there for another month, owing to the school health program. While the state of the state-run schools saddened me, the face of the ‘smile seller’ always brought a smile to my face. It was as if he didn’t sell me any smiles. He gifted them for free. Often my return home would be punctuated by a visit to his stall, buying a couple of balloons and sharing a few jokes. The chasms between our age and wage had dimmed considerably. And the friendship deepened. It seemed as if we were long los brothers, as we now started sharing a cup of chai and biscuits over the evening while sharing experiences of our vastly diverse world. I would often be the silent one, trying to soak in the life that I would never have to live.

“It is difficult, our existence,” he said, one day, “Daily, we have to pay the policemen and the street gundas to protect ourselves from them. And yet, at the end of the day, we live on, hoping for another beautiful day. The smile on my son’s face is all I would ever ask for, should God grant me a wish. He is all that I have, after Tara left. And you saved his life! You are like God to me.”

“Oh come on! All I did was to give him some tablets. Nothing great,” I shrugged nonchalantly, “What happened to your wife?” I ventured, banking on my goodwill. His face stiffened in return. As if it were something he didn’t want to bring up. I never asked about it again. Every man has his secrets. Some want them buried, others put them on Facebook.

It was at the end of yet another taxing day, with school health visits in the morning and helping to run the OPD in the afternoon. The OPD was especially heavy, and by the time I was done, all I wanted was a cup of hot tea and soothing music. But my return journey was marred by something totally unexpected. Curfew! It was as if the whole of Ahmedabad lay dead. I had no idea what was happening, and had no means of getting one either, as the phone networks had been jammed. My senior, the pharmacy staff and me, we totaled five people in the Health centre, who absolutely had been cut off from the world. Just then, my mobile rang. As I picked it up, I heard mom’s voice, laden with anxiety, and fear.

“There have been bomb blasts everywhere in Ahmedabad! And this time, the rascals have targeted all hospitals, especially Government hospitals! Are you safe?”

I was dumbstruck, both at the audacity and the heinousness of the attack. They had attacked places with minimal or abysmal security arrangements, and maximum concentration of targets. Trembling, I relayed the information to others. Everybody was equally shocked, dazed…nay, terrorized. As the initial shock passed, the pharmacist spoke, “Then why are we alive? Why have the terrorists not targeted us?”

“Maybe our health centre is too small to be a target,” I made a feeble attempt to make light of the moment. It was replied with silent glares. I decided it was better to shut up. Nobody spoke a word for the rest of the time. We decided to spend the night in the Health centre itself, inspite of realizing that we could be in for a shock. Or a blast. But at the moment the place seemed safer than anywhere else.

The next day dawned, or rather struck. News of the blast and its causalities were everywhere in the news. Thousands had died, and many more, injured. Amidst all the gloom, as I returned home, I sought ‘the smile seller’. He was nowhere in sight. Shuddering at the thought of his death, I went over to the adjacent shopkeepers to enquire about him. Nobody knew much about him, apart from the fact that he had recently started selling balloons in the locality. He had disappeared a day before. Nobody even knew his name.

“His name is Veerji. Veerji Makwana,” I said.

“Saaheb, that’s my name! It was the first thing he asked when he came here!” I was shocked. Maybe shocked is an understatement. Was the man whom I thought to be my friend, something entirely else? Afraid to build a conclusion based on circumstantial evidence alone, I walked back. As I passed a police station, I had half a mind to go in and report about the balloon man, but decided against it. The little boy inside me still told me to trust him.

The OPD was almost empty the next day. Fearing another attack, nobody had come there to take medicines for cough, cold and fever. Maybe it was better to cough for a day than to die. The MO told me to go home if I wished to. I went straight to the spot where the ‘smile seller’ stood. It was empty. I was about to turn away when the shopkeeper, the real Veerji, called me. As I came, he came close to my ear and said, “Your balloon man is dead.”

“What?” I exclaimed in shock. Life was suddenly dealing me shocks by the dozen.

“Yes. Yesterday he came here, not with his balloons, but on a motorbike, with his son. Asked me to take his son to a safe place. He had a pleading look in his eyes that I will never forget. When I asked the reason, he didn’t say anything but ran away. Just as he was crossing the road, a truck smashed right into him. The truck driver ran away with the truck.”

I had no words. I was as if the wind had been snatched out of my lungs. All I could mumble was a “Thank you” to the shopkeepers and trudged back to my car. As I drove back home, I switched on the radio. The RJ was not in his usual buoyant mood, and for a reason. But one line that he spoke jarred me into attention, “According the Commissioner of Police, all the targets had a balloon man standing nearby, scouting on the place for a month. Efforts are on to find any of those. If you have seen any such person, you can call on this number…”

So, he was a terrorist! But why did he not bomb our Health centre, if he was scouting it? It was then that his words came to me, “You saved his life. You are God to me.”

Wings of Power

The Wings of Power

She was born, shorn of shine

At the time she seem'd, a joke from Divine

"Why, O, why us you thus blessed,

Were our lives any less messed?"

The knees on ground, her eyes at the sky

With wings of fire, her license to fly.

Of three sisters, third she was

To no human, heard she was

Dreams forbidden, paths downtrodden

And awaited her, chores so sodden.

The knees on ground, her eyes at the sky

With wings of fire, her license to fly.

But little did they know, oh, so little they did

Of a fire, no water can douse; an empire no world can house

A will of iron, unmalleable; a belief so strong, unshakeable.

She decided to take on her fate

The knees on ground, her eyes at the sky

With wings of power, her license to fly.

And years later, on a grand grand scale

She jumped higher, yes, the fire, than anyone

She ran more, yes, the iron core, than anyone

With every Gold she won, she gave a dream to daughters of nation

The knees on ground, her eyes at the sky

With wings of fire, her license to fly.

-Shivam'da'

Freedom

Freedom from fear is the freedom I seek
Freeom from odours of pessimism from which we reek
Freedom from the sense of defeat
Freedom from self imposed limits.

Freedom from short sightedness that halts progress
Freedom from hesitence that makes us regress
This is the freedom for which I crave
This is the freedom whose need today is grave.

Hit job

Hit job

Episode 1 – The fateful day

Stories about poor people are of two types; either they are about a poor guy who survives against all odds and succeeds in life to become one of those rich guys that he hated in the first place, or a poor guy who remains poor all through his life, but still finds happiness in his abject poverty. The former is seeped in popular cinema, and latter is the staple for wannabe indie directors who don’t have the budget to portray a rich guy.

This story is neither of the above.

Stories about gang-lords are of two types; either they are about a gang of dangerous goons, each deadlier than the last, who decide to mess the life of the aforementioned poor hero, and end up being beaten or killed by the hero against all odds, or laws of physics and biology. The other type is about two gangs fighting against each other, resulting in the death of one gang, which is usually the more evil of the two. Both are depicted enough times in popular culture.

This story is neither of the above.

Shankar, or as everyone in his street called him, Pappu was walking on the road with a clear limp. The business had been good that day. Three cars had hit him, and he had managed to extract close to ten thousand that day, apart from a free lunch. The cost to be paid consisted of a couple of abrasions on his chest and forearms, and a small injury on his head. He was a through professional, having been a victim of over twenty -five minor car accidents, obviously all of them precipitated by him running in front of a moving car. The usual modus operandi consisted of him falling on ground and acting like his life had been sucked out of him. Soon enough, a crowd would gather and gherao the car driver till he coughed up some money. The money was to be shared by Pappu and party, fifty percent each. It was a good arrangement, and took care of Pappu’s major expenses.

“Ek khambha,” he asked for a bottle of country liquor, “and a bottle of soda. This fucking job is painful. I need a drink.”  He poured himself some drink and drank straight up, without bothering to add any soda. The aching limbs got soothed as the cerebral inhibitory action of alcohol kicked in. Three drinks later, he was ready for another hit job. That was when he saw a black Scorpio near the cross-roads. He loved the cross-roads. You never need to pay people to form a crowd and harass the driver. Well wishers, hoping to help a poor soul hit by a rash, arrogant driver, would always pop up.

He waited patiently, like a lion waiting for his prey. He was a pro at it. The right time and place would always be when the car would be in the middle of the cross-roads. That way, there would be nowhere to run and it caught attention of public quickly. Also, the speed of the car and the resultant damage would be minimal. The signal turned to green, the Scorpio geared into action, and so did Pappu. Bang in the middle of the street, he jumped in front of the car, crashed with the bumper and fell down, wincing. The Scorpio stopped. Soon enough, a crowd gathered around the car. Someone gave a glass of water to Pappu. He stood up, and started swaying from side to side. The intensity of performance was always the key. The more injured he appeared, the more compensation he could extract. But that day, he sensed something was wrong. The driver did not bother to come out of the car, in spite of the crowd around it. He did look agitated though.

Five minutes later, the door opened and a burly man with a long overcoat stepped out. He surveyed the angry crowd around him, and the injured Pappu, and growled just one word in a thick voice, “Move!” People did not budge, as is their wont. He repeated his earlier word, this time louder. Nobody responded. He was the ultimate villain in their eyes, a middle class harassed by bribes, heat and traffic jams. He represented the bourgeoisie who is allowed to run away after the hit. No, not on their watch, they had decided. The poor man will get the compensation, they decided. The man, perhaps understanding their thoughts, decided to play a full-blown villain and took out a gun and fired it in the air. The crowd dispersed, scared. Pappu stood there, stunned.  The man held him by the collar and whispered, “You don’t know who you have messed with!” Saying this much, he got back into the car and sped away.

Chapter 2- Family first

A couple of days had passed since Pappu was openly threatened by that stranger in the Scorpio. He hadn’t ventured out since, deciding instead, to rest for some time and try to get a real job. His line of business now seemed too risky. One non-paying accident taught him what twenty-five paying ones couldn’t- that earning money by faking accidents is a bad idea. For one full week, he went to any shop he could see, who would hire him. He was ready to take any job, as long as it did not involve being threatened by strangers with a gun. For one full week, he was rejected from everywhere.

“This day feels different,” he thought, as he woke up next to his wife. The kids were still sleeping when he left the home, if that is what one would call their ramshackle assortment of asbestos, straws and bricks. It was the best he could afford, and the worst he could dream of. But, that morning, he swept all depressing thoughts aside and decided to jump straight to the job hunting.

“Ek khambha,” he asked for his customary bottle of country liquor from Ramu, the 16 year old who was running the small illegal liquor shop in the locality.

“No soda?’ Ramu asked. He was used to handing a bottle of soda with the alcohol.

“Nahi yaar. The day has been the worst. One fucker threw me out of his office! It hurt everywhere, but the most it hurt was here,” he said, pointing at his heart, “one day I will be the boss of these idiots and show them their place!”

“Waah Pappubhai, you are high by just holding the bottle!” Ramu laughed. Pappu joined in too. His dreams had been shredded into a million shards, each pricking him in every corner of his body. He needed the alcohol to drown the pain. At least, that was what he thought. When he reached his home, pitch-drunk, he saw something that evaporated every drop of alcohol from his body and replaced it with liquid fear. His house was completely destroyed, his wife and kids missing.  He knew who it was. It was the man in the Scorpio. But how had he managed to trace him and his address so quickly? He shuddered to think what kind of man would have guts to openly fire his gun in the middle of the road, in broad daylight, and he trembled with fear, thinking what such a man could do to his family. But, he was yet unaware of the reason. Nobody destroys a man’s life just for a minor inconvenience.

Thud! Something hit the back of his head, and knocked him out. When he woke up, all he could see was darkness, and all he could feel was suffocation. He heard someone speak too.

“So, this rat caused us to fail our hit job?”

“Yes Jaggabhai. This fool ran in front of our car, alerting the target, who ran away. Maybe by now, he would have left town, knowing Jaggabhai’s men are after him.”

“Who is he? Does he work for that Lucky?”

“No idea boss. Why bother? Let’s just kill him straight away!”

“ Shut up Teja. He will be given some Jagga justice.”

The two men guffawed, and one of them hit Pappu on the back of his head. It hurt. He winced. The uncomfortable journey carried on for some time.  The throbbing pain on his head and the weight of worry in his heart made Pappu slump down. He was prepared for the worst. But the worst was yet to come.

They lifted him from the car seat, carried for some distance and threw him on the ground. It felt hard, smooth. And then, in a rough moment, the cloth was removed from his face. Initial light blinded him, so he squinted. Through the half open curtains of his vision, he saw the same man who had threatened him on the road, surrounded by five, maybe six other armed men. He seemed to be in some sort of lair. Someone slapped him, jarring him into full attention.

“Listen you rat! The other day, you caused us to lose twenty five lacs on the hit job. You have any idea what that kind of money looks like?”

“I am sorry sir. Please forgive me…” Pappu pleaded before being cut short with another slap. His cheeks were stinging, his pride was drowned in the gutter with his tears.

“What do you think this is? Some fucking classroom? And you think I am your class teacher?” Jagga laughed. Everyone else joined in. Jagga cleared his throat and continued, “Your apology will not get me my money, nor will it get you your family. You will have to pay me back.”

“But sahib, I have not even seen this much money at one place. How will I repay you? Please have some mercy!” Pappu was almost sobbing.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Jagga whispered in one of the henchmen’s ear, “What we have here, is an opportunity. What can a desperate man do to save his family? Can he destroy another family to save his own?” Pappu looked puzzled. So did everyone else in the room. Jagga continued, moving like a lion circles his prey, “According to my sources, the target has not yet left city. Of course, he knows about us. But he does not know about our latest recruit- Pappubhai!” Saying this, Jagga laughed out loud. Everyone else followed suit, albeit nervously. Pappu was speechless. Ofcourse, what he did was never on the side of law. But they were petty offences. This was murder. He would never bethe same. The merchant of Jagga-ville was asking for his pound of flesh, and he had no option but to cut it out. Only difference was that in this flesh would be a part of his soul.

“I agree,” he said, sealing his deal with the devil.

Chapter 3- Everybody dies….some day!

There was no time to teach Pappu about using guns. They had to go the old fashioned way, and use a knife. The plan was simple- Pappu would approach the target, when he would be in the restaurant, as he was scheduled to do on that day, follow him to the bathroom, and finish the business there. Nervously, Pappu entered the restaurant, knowing that he would come out of it a completely different person.  He located the target, a Mr Mehra, who was a lawyer fighting a case against Jagga’s bosses. He had to be dealt with, and quickly.

“Hello Mr Mehra, I am Dr Shankar,” Pappu introduced himself. The new clothes and expensive perfume were heady and would have distracted him from the job, had he not known what was on the line.

“Hello doctor. Do I know you?”

“Ah yes.  I am the surgeon who treated some of the victims of the mob violence. Thought I could give you some,” Pappu shifted uneasily and checked his surroundings, and whispered in Mehra’s ear, “evidence.” He could see the effect his words had on Mehra. He straightened up pretty quickly and signaled to follow him to the washroom. So far, so perfect. He followed Mehra to the washroom, leaned towards him slowly and in one quick movement, slammed the dagger in his stomach. Blood spurted out everywhere. Before Mehra could call for help, Pappu gagged him. He kept on stabbing him, tears running down his cheeks. He continued to do it till he was sure the man was dead. It was then that he realized, that he had not done a deal with the devil. He had asked devil to take place of his soul. He dragged the body into one of the cubicles, washed hands, changed clothes and jumped out from the window. His job was done. On the other end of the road, Jagga’s men waited for him with his family. He spotted the van and ran towards it. He could see his wife from one corner of his eye.  But what he saw from the centre of his eyes wrenched the air out of his lungs. There was a hole on her forehead with blood trickling out. She was dead! He ran towards her lifeless body that Jagga’s goons threw on the road before speeding away. Clutching the body, he wailed. He wailed the whole night. He had lost everything. Everything. His life, his family, his soul, everything. And it was all done by one very evil man, just to spite him for a small mistake. He took out his phone. It was time for payback.

“Hello Ramu, ek khambha,” he said, his lips curling in a twisted smile.

Jagga’s lair received a carton of country liquor. The gang assumed it was a reward by the boss to them, for the job well done.

Epilogue- All’s well that ends

The newspaper headlines screamed the following morning, “HOOCH TRAGEDY STRIKES MUMBAI SUBURB. TWENTY PEOPLE BLINDED, TEN KILLED IN THE SAME HOUSE.”

Shankar read it, and smiled. Nothing can bring back the dead, but something can avenge them.

Minority

I am merely a meek, mute minority.

For, all I want is to live and live in peace.Please let me be.

Away from squabbles and quarrels

away from fights over imagined rights

away from what divides me within,

all i want is to live,

and live in peace.

please let me be.

Tired I am, of being instigated

Tired I am, of avenging fictious affronts

Tired I am, of being victimized, and a victim

all i want is to live,

and live in peace.

please let me be.

Why destroy the world, to prove a point?

Why annihilate humanity, to claim your object?

And why should I help?

all i want is to live,

and live in peace.

please let me be.

Believer of love, I am

Believer of life, I am

Just a meek minority, yes, I am.

all i want is to live,

and live in peace.

please let me be.

-Shivam

Unspoken Emotions

Unspoken emotions, a story by me..

Unspoken Emotions

Ah! The time when all students hoped they had never gone to a school or a college- The time of examinations! The same was the situation in the medical college, where Shyam and Rinku were frantically trying to mug up the last portions of their course. The Biochemistry viva was due in an hour! It was then that Shyam stood up and said, “Rinku, I want to take a short break. I’ll come back in five minutes.” Rinku was irritated. He was supposed to teach her Biochemistry and now, he was going for a break! Knowing Shyam, she announced she’ll accompany him too, to ensure he came back on time.

Shyam was walking in his usual half walk-half run style and Rinku was having trouble catching up with him.

“Why do you always walk so fast Shyam?” an exasperated and tired Rinku asked.

“Fast walking increases blood circulation, and helps in thinking faster,” Shyam replied as quickly as he walked. Then, to Rinku’s relief, he slowed down. It was the sight of a tall boy with whitish complexion that made Shyam stop. He walked over to have a chat with him, and returned in a minute after delivering a couple of backslaps to the boy. Rinku was a silent observer to the whole conversation. She leaned on to a pillar, adjusted her lustrous hair, tied them with a ribbon on the back of her head and gazed at the two boys who were laughing in an inhumanely loud manner at a private joke. Perhaps she stood there gazing for a bit too long, as Shyam poked at her back.

“Hey, don’t you want to study? Come on, let’s go!” he said, waving his hand in air. Rinku was silent throughout the return journey and sat quietly as Shyam tried to explain her Embden-Mayerhof-Parnas pathway of glucose metabolism and the de novo pathway of purine synthesis. Something was wrong, and Shyam could sense it.

It was obvious that Rinku was sad. That was enough reason for Shyam to close his biochemistry journal and console her. After all, you can’t be best friends with just anyone. You have got to be with the person every time you are needed.

“What’s the matter Rinku?” Shyam asked concernedly.

Rinku suppressed a sob, and then whispered, “Shyam, you know that guy from BJ medical college, that guy with whitish complexion?”

“Not exactly,” Shyam shrugged his shoulders, and continued, “I have shared a few jokes with him. That’s all. I don’t even know his name. Why? Has he hurt you? Or has teased you in any way? I will teach him a lesson!!” His tone grew more and more aggressive as he ended his longish monologue.

“No Shyam! You will not do any such thing. I have hurt him enough.” Saying this, Rinku fell silent and started gazing outside the window, as if fascinated by some extraordinary vision on an ordinarily sunny morning. Her reply stunned Shyam. This was atypical of Rinku. She would never admit her own fault even if the reality would fly out of window and slap her in the face. Shyam now shifted his role from a ‘sincere co-student’ to a ‘genuine friend’.

“What's the problem? Consider me your friend and tell me.”

“Will you promise me that you won’t tell it to anyone?”

“It’s my promise.”

“Okay then. We were a pair in the school, me and Abhi. I loved him and he loved me. See, he gave me this.” Saying this, she took out two metal hearts as seen in biology textbooks.

“Hardly romantic.” Shyam muttered, more as conversation filler than an observation.

“Yeah, I know. But we were to be doctors and hence this.”

“Cool. Then what happened?”

“I deserted him.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want my parents to find out about him. And we were too young. This would create complications in our life. Best was to leave him and we vowed not to talk to each other,” Rinku concluded amidst sobs.

Shyam wiped her tears with his handkerchief and waited for her sobs to subside. His one eye was on the watch, and it showed him that they had only thirty minutes to go before the Practical exams, and still a lot of course was left to be revised! But that didn’t stop him from asking his next question.

“Does he have a new girlfriend?”

“No. He is single because he is unable to forget me. This is the reason why I have not taken interest in any boy. It is my moral obligation towards him.”

Saying this Rinku started crying again, but these were the tears of relief, of being relieved of a burden. For a moment Shyam forgot that it was the University biochemistry practical exam. He forgot that he was supposed to remember the horrible names like ‘quinonimiene’ or ‘cholestadiene’. He forgot that he was supposed to give viva exam to someone he might have never met. All he could remember was the days he had spent with Rinku, thinking that he will propose her one day, that he will be a Prince who will sweep her off her feet. But now, he was left sweeping the dust after someone else, a whitish fellow, who looked girlish compared to the towering frame of his, had swept her off her feet. But he realized quickly that Rinku needed him to be strong, to be able to support her in this delicate moment and most importantly, to make her pass the viva, which was now due in only ten minutes.

“Rinku, please listen.  We can talk about this for a whole day once we finish our viva. Remember, it is the last exam, and after this, we are free! So please be a good girl and wipe off your tear,” saying this, Shyam playfully added the classic line, “because Pushpa I hate tears!”

“Shut up you idiot!” Rinku slapped Shyam’s hand playfully, and smiled, “you always manage to bring a smile to my tearful face! How?”

“That’s my trade secret sweetie! If I reveal it, everyone would start making you smile! What would happen to me then?” then abandoning the joke, he said seriously, “Now, Rinku, do you really want to pass the viva?” The last line had the desired effect and they spent the last ten minutes revising furiously, the various complex biochemical cycles. Then a bell rang, and an elderly peon came out to announce that the Biochemistry viva had begun and the candidates were required to be present in the laboratory within five minutes to get their exercises.

Shyam had a relatively easy exercise. He was first supposed to test for presence of proteins in the given sample of urine (thankfully artificial), and then determine the amount of glucose in the given blood sample (actually real!) by colorimetry. But the ace was his viva. So far, Shyam was the highest scorer in viva examination. Soon enough, his turn for viva came. The examiner was a thick rimmed gentleman with grey, thinned out hair and a pencil moustache. He gazed at Shyam for some time and fired his first volley,

“Describe the EMP pathway of glycolysis.” It was a simple enough question. Shyam had just taught Rinku the Embden-Mayerhof-Parnas pathway of glycolysis. He started on a confident note, “Sir, it starts with the phosphorylation of glucose to glucose-6-phosphate by glucokinase, followed by its conversion to glucose-1, 6-bisphosphate,” suddenly Shyam was lost in thought. The scene that took place a few minutes ago with Rinku was being played in his mind over and over again. The lines “We were a pair in school, me and Abhi,” were being played in his mind again and again. These lines were like an opaque screen trying to block out all the information that was in his brain. He stopped speaking.

“Yes, what happens next?” the elderly professor tried to revive Shyam’s memory, oblivious of the churning that was taking place inside his mind.

“Sorry sir, I don’t know,” Shyam resigned to his fate.

“What! You don’t know glycolysis! What a shame! Okay, perhaps you can shed some light on the functions of Vitamin C?”

Shyam was again caught in the desperate battle with his mind. Rinku’s image and her lines kept flashing repeatedly in his mind. Finally he gave up, saying, “Sorry sir, I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe it! How low the standards of education have fallen! Get out! You don’t deserve to be in my viva,” the elderly professor was flushed red with anger. Shyam quietly walked out, his shoulders drooped. He knew that he had screwed up big time, and only God could save him.

The exam was over. Shyam was sad and angry for not being able to answer so easy questions. As he was walking away slowly and sadly towards his bike, a cheery voice came from behind, “Hey Sam!” Shyam smiled. Only one person could call him by such an absurd name. It was Minisha, his very good friend, and unfortunately, Rinku’s arch-enemy. Shyam had a tough time fulfilling his commitments as a friend to both girls.

“Hi Mini!” He called her out with an equally ridiculous nickname, “How was your viva?”

“What to say! Oh God! I am in so much trouble! Oh God, please help me!” Minisha replied in her characteristic hurried manner. Another of her traits was most of incidents occurring with her were tragic, and if her tragedies were to be believed in the scale which she described, she must have died a hundred times over!

“What happened again?” Shyam asked bemusedly. He had gone through this conversation many times.

“Leave it yaar, it’s too tragic! What about you? You seem a little sad.” She enquired worriedly.

“Yeah, it’s a little problem with… I don’t think you would like to know. Leave it. Let’s go for an ice cream! I am dying for it!” Shyam said. He had earlier asked Rinku too, but she had refused as according to her, good girls didn’t go out with boys alone. Whether Minisha too considered herself a good girl remained a matter of chance for Shyam. Evidently, her definitions of a ‘good girl’ were a little less stringent and she agreed to come with Shyam. For Shyam, it was a way to stop ruminating about his past feelings about Rinku, and to pull the plug on his imagined romance.

“You know Sam,” Minisha said, wiping her lips with a tissue paper, “I have always longed for someone who can understand my feelings. Someone who can love me, in spite of knowing my weaknesses.” Shyam was taken aback. It was exactly what he was thinking after the incident with Rinku. He too was feeling very lonely. Suddenly, as if on an impulse, Shyam heard himself say, “Mini, I love you.”

Minisha’s mouth, which had opened to say something else, didn’t utter a single voice, and stayed open. A moment later, she regained her senses and said softly, “Shyam, you know what you are talking about?”

“Yes Mini, I know what I am talking about. I love you,” Shyam replied confidently. He was about to add “from my heart,” but he stopped, knowing that it was not true.

“But I thought you loved that Rinku!” Minisha replied after somewhat recovering from the shock. Shyam froze. He realized how transparent his feelings for Rinku would have been, that even a girl who hasn’t met her would be able to decipher them. “Everyone could read my love for Rinku, except Rinku herself!” Shyam muttered.

“Did you say something?”

“No... Listen Mini, Rinku was my friend. And you, you are my girlfriend!”

Minisha laughed and said, “Not yet, sweets. I am yet to say yes.”

“In that case, we’ll call for separate bills!” Shyam said with a laugh.

Two days later, Shyam again went to the same ice cream parlor with Minisha, ordered the same ice creams but this time, there were no separate bills. It was Shyam’s first date, his first romp with romance after being crushed by his previous crush. Minisha, over an hour long chat on the phone the previous night, told him how she was recovering from a messy break-up for one year, and that she was glad to have Shyam by her side. That time, an hour seemed too long for Shyam. Little did the poor fellow know that soon, hours would fly away like minutes, as he’d spend most of his time and all of his pocket money on Minisha!

They explored more dating joints. To Shyam’s surprise, his own city had many places exclusively for young, romantic souls and he was shocked at his own lack of knowledge of the same. Each evening was spent in a new coffee shop or ice cream bar, either sipping coffee or eating chocolate ice creams from each others’ cups. Shyam was in heaven, and he took Minisha with him too!

Then one day, that moment came which Shyam had been dreading for so long- the encounter with Rinku. His affair with Minisha was not a secret after a fortnight, and the news spread around faster than a wildfire among the romance-starved students of the medical college. It was a ‘big deal’ amongst Shyam’s friends, and Shyam was again in the news for romantic reasons after his incident with Preity Sharma in the first year. Being his ‘best friend’, it was obvious that Rinku would get to know of it sooner or later.

“Shyam! Look at me!” Rinku thundered.

“That’s what I had been doing for one year,” Shyam muttered. Rinku didn’t hear it.

“What did you say?”

“Eh?” Shyam gave the most idiotic look he could muster.

“Don’t look like a fool! You know I am angry on what happened between you and Minisha!” Rinku screamed.

“Rinku, try and understand…” Shyam began to pacify Rinku, but he was cut off by Rinku before he could speak anything, “Don’t you utter a word! I thought you were my best friend, and here are you, fraternizing with the enemy!” Rinku’s stream of anger continued.

“Fraternizing? From where did you pick that word Rinku? And listen, I retain the right to fall in love with the person I like, okay? It’s my life after all!” Shyam countered Rinku.

“Okay, it’s your life. Live it the way you want, but from now, keep me out of it!” Saying this, Rinku walked away in a huff. Nobody could see a tiny droplet of tear from her left eye. Shyam called out aloud to Rinku. She stopped. “Listen Rinku, I need to tell you one fact,” Shyam’s mystery laden sentence made Rinku turn around. Shyam continued, “Rinku, I had loved you for the last one year. One year! And I had hoped to propose you after our first year. But when I heard about you and Abhi, my heart was broken. Minisha was my balm. She filled my life with the happiness that you unwittingly had taken away.”

“Over? Fine, I forgive you for romancing my enemy. And listen Mr. Shyam, you can forget me forever. Forget Rinku forever. Pluck me out as you would remove a suture, cleanly and aseptically. Bye, and see you in heaven!”

Shyam felt shattered. He felt as if somebody had removed all his blood and replaced it with bile. The gathered crowd walked away after watching the live drama between two now-ex friends.

Just as Rinku was turning back, Minisha shouted from across the corridor, “Hey Sammy! Wait for me!” Shyam could hear the unusually loud “Huh!” from Rinku as she increased the pace and length of her steps. Minisha tapped his shoulder from behind, “What happened between you two?” she asked casually.

“Nothing. Just settling some old issues. You tell me, where you wanna go today?”

“Actually that’s why I came to meet you. I’ll be going out of station with my parents to a conference they’ve attend. The whole day they’d be in the conference and I’ll explore the resort with his colleagues’ children, who are all my friends.”

“That’s great,” Shyam sighed, rather than cheered.

“What happened? Aren’t you happy, Sammy?” Minisha cupped her hands on Shyam’s face as she asked.

“Oh no Mini, that’s not true! I am so much happy for you. I’ll miss you baby!” Shyam recovered in an instant.

“I’ll miss you too! And yeah, my mobile will be switched off as no phones are allowed there,” saying this, she walked away.

“So, no girlfriend for a week, and no best friend for life,” Shyam lamented silently.

The week passed slowly. He missed the amusedly annoying chatter of Minisha, the sweetly funny sulking of Rinku when Shyam did something stupid. He missed them both, but was unable to reach either. Then, one lazy afternoon, when Shyam was watching TV, his phone rang. It was Minisha’s call.

“Hi Sam!” a cheery voice of Minisha lovingly called out Shyam’s name.

“Hi Mini! How are you?” Shyam’s voice was laced with more force and less enthusiasm.

“Let’s meet today! I want to introduce you to one of my friends.”

“Okay!”

They decided to meet at the place where they had first gone for the ice cream, where Shyam had proposed Minisha. Shyam quickly got ready. Just as he was about to kick start his motorcycle, his phone rang. Thinking that it must be Minisha with a change of plans, Shyam took his mobile out. It was from Ashwini, Rinku’s friend.

“Hi Ashwini!”

“Shyam, listen,” a serious tone replaced the normally cheerful voice, “Rinku hasn’t taken to your break up very well. She has been crying continuously since a week.”

“But Ashwini, what are you talking about? We have never had a link up! How could we have a break up?”

“Shyam, you were always dumb, we knew it by your stupid antics to make us laugh, but you were also blind!”

“What the…”

“Listen, can you talk to her right now? Please?”

“Ashwini, I am going to CCD with Mini. We’re going out after a week!”

“Shyam, you idiot! You never saw how much Rinku loved you? She loved you more than she had ever loved anybody!”

“Impossible! She loved that Abhi or something.”

“No Shyam, she didn’t even know that boy. It was an innocent prank to see whether you loved Rinku too. If you had confronted her once, just once, with your love, she would have been yours!” Shyam could not reply.
The exasperated sound of, “Hello! Hello!” was being heard from the speaker but Shyam had lost all his voice.

Shyam reached the ice cream joint in twenty minutes. Hoping for some change in mood on meeting his sweetheart, Shyam pushed the door open and located Minisha. Boy, she looked so cute! Just as he was admiring her, Shyam’s eyes fell on another boy sitting with Minisha. To his shock, it was the same white skinned guy, Abhi!

“Hi Minisha!” Shyam warmly hugged Minisha and looked at ‘Abhi’ enquiringly.

“Hi Sam,” Minisha replied a little less enthusiastically than she normally would, and continued, “Here, meet Vikas. He was my ex-classmate.”
Shyam shook hands with Vikas. Minisha continued, “Shyam, please sit down and listen this very carefully.”

Shyam was puzzled at the mysterious way in which Minisha spoke, as he sat down on the sofa. Minisha spoke after a short cough, “Shyam, I will come straight to the point. I loved Vikas in school, and he loved me too.  But our relationship ended abruptly when we parted ways after 12th. Remember me telling you about a messy break-up? It was my affair with Vikas. Then, I met you and our love bloomed. I had almost forgotten him. When I met him at the holiday resort a week ago, our old flames were rekindled. I am sorry, but I need to break up from you. You will always be my friend, but I cannot love you. Sorry!”

Shyam merely smiled, and said, “In that case, we’ll have call for separate bills!”

“Thanks for understanding Sam!” Minisha said in a choked up voice.

Shyam merely paid his bill and left the place. Rinku, who was sitting there with Ashwini, saw a solitary figure walking out of the shop, with a slow, staggering walk, and his hands in his pockets. If one would approach this figure, they could see a stream of tears running from his eyes, and a smile plastered on his face, as if the man is smiling at the cruelty of his own fate, as if the man is voicing the sound of an unspoken emotion. Seeing him, Rinku smiled for a mini second and burst into tears.