Bennington fever!

I still remember it was the monsoon of 2009, one of my classmates had sneaked in an iPod in the classroom. It wasn’t actually an ‘iPod’ but one of those cheap Chinese copies of the same. Anyways, that kid had become a mini celebrity that day in class as sneaking in some electrical appliance was considered uber cool those days. So, on that fateful day during the recess hour when the monsoon shower was in full throttle mode outside, that guy introduced me to my first ever English song- ‘Bleed it out’ by Linkin Park.

Having grown up on Bollywood music of Sonu Nigam and A R Rahman, that song sounded a bit queer. That fast-paced rock music with almost incomprehensible rap (I didn’t understand a word that time!) and occasional growling by the lead vocalist almost made me question the sanity of my friend. After he turned it off, I knew I wasn’t going to hear it again. I haven’t been more wrong in my life since then. A few days later, I borrowed memory card from the same friend for a reason that eludes my mind now but I found the same song in it. I listened to that song once again and found my feet tapping on that rap rhythm. I replayed it once more and this time my lips were humming to its tone. I decided to listen a few more of its songs and heard Faint, One step Closer, In the End, Crawling and Papercut on that day itself. Since then there has been no turning back and Linkin Park discography has always been on my playlist.

Today, on hearing the sad news of Chester Bennington’s death, that particular day came flashing before my eyes making me realize everything indeed gets ‘lost in the echo’. The boy in me cried a lot. During my school days, I was strangely addicted to LP’s song, so much that I had memorized all of their songs- Shinoda’s rap, Chester’s screams and even the beats of drums. I remember how my mother used to reprimand me when I sang those songs in home trying to imitate Chester's voice. Even today when I hear any of those songs my lips automatically start humming those lyrics. I find it strange that even after all these years, those lyrics are clearly etched in my mind.

There is a reason LP is so special to me. Besides their brilliant music and impeccable performances, there is another facet of emotional connection that binds me to it. First of all, almost all of their songs told me the blatant realities when everyone around me including my parents and teachers were trying to sugarcoat the bitter truth. Then there was Chester himself. His gritty husky voice that echoed in your ears long after the song had stopped. His personality. His tattoos. His performances that were impregnated with gusto. Everything made me revere him more and more. He was everything that I was not. And who could not be moved by those crisp lyrics? I still remember I used to hear Faint for the entire day during the time of my first heartbreak (or breakup or whatever you call it!). LP has a song for my every mood!

I found a kind of escape in those songs when no one else understood me. One of the many things that I wanted to do when I had enough money was to hear Chester Bennington live! I know I can’t fulfill my that dream anymore and it shatters my heart. Still, my mind is in a denial state and it is really hard for me to digest that he committed suicide. A guy who saved me from so many emotional turmoils committed suicide himself!

Life and its ironies!

“I can’t feel the way I did before

Don’t turn your back on me, I won’t be ignored.

Time won’t heal, this damage anymore

Don’t turn your back on me, I won’t be ignored”

When pani puri teaches you life lesson!

Sometimes strange thoughts can strike you at strange places. You can just step out of your house and find an ordinary phuchka wala (for core UPites its pani puri wala) and he can give you one of the deepest lessons of life. On this day, i.e 16^th July, four years back JEE Mains counselling system allotted me Mechanical Engineering in NIT Durgapur. On 23^rd July 2013, I moved to this new city which was going to become my home for the next four years. Usually, I am not very good with remembering dates, even forgot my girlfriend’s birthday (man that was a bad day!), but I know I will never forget these two dates as they changed my life forever.

When I moved to Durgapur, I found a strange city. The people were strange, their culture was strange, their language was strange; there was nothing that I could relate to my hometown Lucknow. People who know me know what a foodie I am, so obviously the biggest discomfort that I faced there was a lack of the type of street food that I was used to. And my biggest disappointment was the phuchka/pani puri that was sold there. Here in Lucknow, they fill your puchka with mashed boiled peas and serve you each puchka with a different flavor of water (pudina, lemon etc). I had eaten only this type of puchka since my childhood and when in Durgapur the vendor filled it with mashed potato that was so spicy that it literally brought tears to my eyes and then served me all the six puchkas with the same flavor of water I knew these coming four years are not going to be easy.

 Fast forward four years, here I am back in Lucknow and just yesterday I stepped out of my house to find my favorite puchka wala. No wonder I decided to devour some puchkas before heading onto my business. After I ate my first puchka I found something amiss. I found that puchka too plain. I said, “dada thoda jhaal aur dal do” (Uncle please spice it up a bit more). The vendor gave me a what on earth are you saying look and it was at that time I realized I was not in Durgapur anymore. I will never be eating those over spicy puchkas with same water in each serving. I gave the vendor a never mind look and continued to eat my rest of the puchkas with mashed peas filled in it while my taste buds were still craving for those spicy mashed potatoes.

I had never thought that I would be craving for a thing that I despised once. Maybe that’s what happens when you leave a place. You get this strange feeling. You don’t only miss that place and the people you love but you also miss the person you were at that place. I can never be that carefree college student again. I can never bunk those lectures or chill with friends in the hostel room or go to the dhaba in the middle of the night or eat that spicy potato puchka ever again. And who knows what I will like or dislike after the next four years!! 

Lunchbox

The scorching sunlight smouldered the ground but that had little effect on the kids who have just begun to enjoy their recess time. Entire playground was thronged with children, some were running to catch someone else, some were just trying to protect their lunch from their hungry friends, some were simply standing and complaining about how boring the previous period was and how even more exhausting the coming four periods will be, some were buzzing around the canteen for the delicious chhola samosa that Kiran uncle made. Amidst all this, in the shady corner of the ground near the staircase, Saurabh was sitting all alone watching the other kids play and fall. Shrey came running towards him and sat beside him, panting and all drenched in sweat. “You haven’t brought lunch today?” he asked trying to catch his breath. “No. My parents are out of station,” Saurabh replied without looking at him.

“Ohh! Where have they gone?”

“They have gone to Paris.” Saurabh looked at Shrey with a smug grin.

“Wow! They have gone there for tour?”

“It’s actually their anniversary. Every year they go to some exotic location to celebrate their anniversary. Last year they went to Switzerland.”

“That’s great! Your parents are so romantic! I have never seen even a glimpse of romance in mine. They are always busy in usual mundane tasks. I don’t even know when their anniversary is. Haven’t you gone with them sometime?”

“Always there are exams around the corner at this time of year so I haven’t gone with them on their anniversary outings. But they always take me to some place during vacations. I love that time. It’s always great being with them. When I grow up I wish I get married to a pretty girl and we stay happy like my parents.”

“Yeah, now even I want the same. Here, have some food; my Mom may not have travelled like yours but she knows how to cook some delicious biryani.”

Saurabh ate a spoonful of biryani. “Take my lunch, I am already full. I am going to play. Wanna come?” Shrey asked as he stood up. “No, I like to just sit.” Before Saurabh could finish, Shrey had already sprinted off. He looked at the lunch and couldn’t wait any longer. He made sure no one was watching him and then filled his hands with rice and gulped down the biryani like a caveman. He felt relieved as his stomach was no more aching because of hunger. He had only had a glass of milk that morning. The recess time was finally over. The bell rang and children scattered back to their classes.

After the school got over, Saurabh quietly went to the cycle stand, took out his cycle and slowly started riding back to his home. On the way, he found Shrey eating phuchka with his friend. Saurabh furtively turned his bicycle and took another way. He reached home, unlocked the door, went in his room and slumped down on his bed, gazing at the rotating fan and calculating how much time is left for the clock to strike seven.

Finally, it was seven and the doorbell rang. Saurabh scuttled to the door with a grin on his face and opened the door. It was his mom. “How was your day little champion?” She bent down to get to his height and hugged him. “Bad….very bad” Saurabh snapped. “Aww….what happened dear?” she asked as she put her hand bag on the sofa and took out water bottle from the fridge. “There was no lunch today, I was so hungry. Everyone else but I had lunch, “ Saurabh said in the cutest voice possible. “What? Your father didn’t give you money for buying lunch?” She asked in surprise. “No, he left while I was still bathing. Mom, please from tomorrow pack some lunch for me,” Saurabh said in a low tone. “Yes, why not beta, it was just today that I had to leave early because of this meeting. See what I brought for you,” she took out a brown envelope from her bag and gave it to him. Saurabh tore it to find his favourite cheese burger in it. This one hour, from seven to eight in evening was Saurabh’s favourite time in entire day. It was during this hour when he didn’t feel lonely. He felt alive as his mother pampered him. He wanted to live his entire day in this one hour because he knew, once the clock strikes eight, it won’t be the same anymore.

Very soon, the clock struck eight. The grin from Saurabh’s face disappeared. He slowly retreated back to his room and locked the room. He heard muffled sound of door unlocking and his father’s footsteps. There was a brief conversation and then there was shouting. “For god’s sake! Even you could have left fifty bucks on the table. Why make such a big issue?” he heard his father screaming.

“It’s such a big issue because he is your kid too and it’s your duty too.”

“I think we had agreed upon this. You will look after his daily expenses and I will look after his monthly expenses. I think food comes in daily expense.”

“I told you I would be leaving early, I asked for one simple help and you couldn’t even do it. It has been the same since you met that Disha.”

“Oh God!! Why do you have to bring her again and again in every matter.”

Then there was this sound of some cup falling followed by even more shouting and screaming. Saurabh covered his ears with his hands and tears started cascading down his cheeks. “I don’t want to grow up.” He said, trying hard to shut away those screaming noises. “I don’t want to grow up and get married.” He fell down on the floor. His seven-year-old brain couldn’t take it anymore. The noise was too much, his hands couldn’t shut them away. “I don’t want to grow up and become like my parents.” He moaned these words as he finally blacked out because of the migraine attack.

Carpe Diem

“Really mom, who designs such stuff?” Varun asked pointing to the MRI machine as he came out of the scan room. “Engineers, and you will become one someday,” Sunita said to her twelve-year old son, trying to fake a smile on her pale to death face. “Huh! Mom I am too cool for that,” Varun said imitating the posture of a rapper. Sunita ruffled his hair and said, “just wait here, ok. I will just check on the doctor.” She went inside the room from which he has just come.  

The doctor was sitting near the computer screen with a grim expression. “Please tell me it’s not as bad as I think it is,” she whimpered. The doctor gave her a furtive glance. “Look Mrs. Mehra, I think it’s time that you tell Varun about his brain tumor.” The tears which were hiding in the corner of her eyes broke loose. “Just console yourself Mrs. Mehra. It has been over a year since diagnosis. It’s an achievement in itself. I mean, you also know no one expected more than ten months for him. But now, the tumor has grown way too big. It can be any moment that….”

“Just shut up! Don’t you dare complete that sentence!” she interrupted. “I am not going to tell him. It will break him. The regular chemotherapy sessions are already taking a toll on him. I just don’t want him to live in fear of death,” she said sobbing. “Aren’t we all living in fear of death Mrs. Mehra? Anyways, it is just my opinion. Just make sure that he doesn’t do some intense physical work or do any such thing which could put a pressure on his head.” Sunita just nodded and dried her cheeks and started walking towards the door. “And one more thing…..there is no need for anymore chemotherapy sessions. We can’t do anything more,” the doctor snapped from behind.

“Mom….what does carpe diem means?” Varun asked looking outside the car window as they drove back home. Doctor’s words were ringing in her ears. She was blankly staring at the bald head of her child. She remembered how he always hated going to the barber’s shop for hair-cut. She looked at his emancipated limbs and remembered how he would come home late in evening, covered all in mud from playing football. He loved football but he loved athletics more. He would always win a medal in the athletics’ meet in his school. She remembered how he would always flunk in one or two subjects and she would scold him and he would smile throughout her chiding. “Mom!!” He waved his hand in front of her eyes. She came back to the harsh reality! That naughty beautiful kid with flowing jet black hair was no more. “Some year it has been!” She thought and a tear rolled down her eyes. “I asked you what does carpe diem mean? I saw it on a banner. You haven’t spoken a word since we came out of hospital. Will you care to tell me why do I have to go for health checkups so often? I am so sick of asking this question,” he put his mother in the spot. “Oh it’s nothing dear…..it’s just for those headaches you have you know…..and carpe diem….I guess it means to seize the day,” she said furtively. Varun just gave a nod. He wasn’t satisfied, yet he remained silent. Then he remembered something and his usual excitement was back on his face. “Ohh I forgot to tell you one thing….you know my history teacher….we had history midterm last week and guess what I left the copy blank….I mean I didn’t even know a single answer but guess what…..she gave me an 8/10.”

“Ohh that’s great!” she again faked a smile, trying so hard not to choke on her own tears.

“What….you aren’t mad that I left the copy blank?”

“Why would I be….you scored decent marks.”

“And you know….the same happened with my English and maths mid-term too. I attempted questions of about 3-4 marks and teachers gave me full 10/10. You should have watched the look on that geek Rahul’s face. He scored a 9,” he smirked, “and you know that Shrey….he has been teasing me for my bald head. I told him it’s my Lex Luthor look. I swear one day I am going to punch him on his face if he continues to tease me like that.” He continued telling her stories from his school and she kept on smiling and ruffling his hair but her mind was still clogged by thoughts that she didn’t want there. Varun was just about two years old when her husband died. Since then every breath she has taken, she has taken for Varun. She just could not imagine a life without him.

“Mom, can I go today for a small football match?” he asked in the most adorable way he could. “No way! You yourself said you didn’t write anything in those exams. Don’t you have to study?” Her heart almost broke saying this. At that moment, she would have given anything in this world to see her son play for just one time because it was the only thing that made him really happy. She knew how suffocated he felt by staying in the house whole day. But she just couldn’t allow him, because doctors have said that any physical effort could prove fatal. “But mom I haven’t event touched football since I don’t even remember when….”

“You don’t have to argue with me…..what I have said is final.”

“Ok fine….I will do what you say…..just let me participate in athletics’ meet next week…”

“Out of question…..your grades are so poor….you just cant play or….”

“Mom….I will only participate in 100m race. It gets over in about 10 seconds. What harm it will do to my studies?”

“No means a no!”

“Why are you behaving like this mom? It’s like I am in a home arrest or something. You don’t let me go out to play. You don’t let me participate in any co-curricular. It’s just home to school then home then doctor then sleep and repeat. You weren’t like this. I can’t even breath properly in this house. It’s like I am dying every second. I don’t know what’s wrong but I think you don’t love me anymore.”

The cab stopped in front of their house. Varun got out of the car, slammed the door behind him and ran into the house. She paid the cab driver and slowly trotted inside. She stopped in front of his room. He was just lying there on his bed, staring at the rotating fan. She thought of talking to him but then stopped. She didn’t have anything to say. She slowly walked in her room with heavy steps. Slumped on her bed, grabbed a pillow and covered her face with it and then screamed into it with all her force. She has been restraining those tears throughout the cab drive but now she couldn’t control anymore. She grabbed Varun’s photo, put her close to her heart and said, “I love you dear…..I love you more than anything else in this world. I am so sorry for being such a jerk around you. But what can I do dear….what can I do? I am so selfish…I just can’t see you die. I want to postpone it as much as I can.” The pillow was completely drenched from her tears. She looked at the ceiling. “Why my little son? What wrong has he done? The day my son die will be the day I stop believing in you.” Humans have a tendency to blame God for every pain that they suffer. An embodiment of their imagination, what magic can he do!!

*After a week*

Sunita poured the hot milk in glass, put it in a tray and called, “Varun….just wake up you lazy bone.” When there was no response she took the tray, and went to his room and was shocked as she entered the room. Varun was not in his bed. It was Sunday, the school was off, he was supposed to be in the bed. “Varun!!” she shouted repeatedly but still there was no response. She checked the bathroom, the terrace and everywhere else in the house but he was nowhere to be found. She went outside to check in the park but there were no kids there. She checked her neighbour’s house but he couldn't be found. Everyone was trying to relax her, asking her not to worry but she was continuously crying. There was little any word could do to reduce her worries. Suddenly she remembered, it was athletics’ meet that day. At that point she only hoped that she doesn’t find him in the 100m race also. One of her neighbours offered her a ride to school and as she reached there she rushed to the ground where the events were going on. As she reached the stands she saw the athletes ready at the starting line and there was Varun on third number. She started running towards him to stop him but then she saw a big smile on his face and then something stopped her from inside. The whistle blew and all the athletes just whizzed off. The entire crowd was clapping and cheering. Then suddenly, when he would have completed about only one third of the race, Varun fell. A loud shrill scream came out of Sunita’s mouth. There was silence in the entire ground. The coach came running towards him but Varun gestured him to stop. His competitors were already beyond the finish line. “All I want is to complete the race!” Varun said in a stern voice. 

  

Then he stood up, gathered all his strength and started running. His head was throbbing like never before, the pain was unbearable. He thought of the past one year, how he couldn’t play anything the whole year. He felt the cold morning breeze as it whizzed past his bald head. He laughed. He laughed like he had never laughed in this past one year. He felt as if he was flowing with the wind. The pain was also slowly alleviating. The red finish line was coming nearer every second. Soon, he could only see the red color of the finish line under his feet and then there was all black. He felt free.

Sunita saw her son fall at the finish line. He completed the race. She ran to him. She was crying like no woman has ever cried in the history before. The coach also came running to him. He checked his pulse and with a blank expression looked at Sunita. “Wake up Varun….see you have completed the race…wake up champion…see everyone is cheering you,” tears were running down profusely from her eyes. “Mrs. Mehra I don’t think he is waking up,” the coach said. Sunita slapped him. “You knew everything….yet you allowed him to run! How could you do this?” She said. “Mrs. Mehra…..your son was a true champion. He gave me this letter before the race and asked me to give it to you after the race.” Sunita took the letter and read:

“Dear mom,

I know you would be mad at me and I am sorry. I may not be the smartest kid in class but I am not so dumb also. You not allowing me to play was the normal stuff but teachers giving me spare marks, you not being mad at me flunking exams and yes not to forget those tiring ‘checkups’ at hospital every week. I know I am dying.

I could have followed your instructions and stayed in house and probably would have lived for another week or month. But I didn’t want my last moments to be lying on bed eating pills. I didn’t want you to regret that you couldn’t watch me play again. C’mon mom I know you love when I race or play football.

So, smile mom. I know that I might die today and if I do, I will die happy. You told me the meaning of carpe diem…..and I want to live by that phrase at least for the last day of my life and I want you to live by it for the rest of your life.

Carpe diem mom.

Your love,

Varun”

A tight slap

Ojha’s white safari shone a little more, his golden chain sparkled a bit more, the smug grin on his face was a bit more complacent as he entered his house after parking his Ford. Sure, his grandeur was questionable considering the fact that he was a babu in Lucknow Nagar Nigam. “Sushma cook butter chicken for today,” he said as he entered his living room. A corpulent woman with huge love handles dangling above her waist came out of the room drying her hand with the anchal of her saree. “What’s so special today?” she asked with an anticipative grin. “Nothing much. You might remember Jankipuram wale Verma ji, right? He got the plot he was asking for and I got what I was asking for.” Smiling from ear to ear, he took out a jewelry case from his briefcase. “Pure gold!” He exclaimed. His wife opened her mouth in awe. “This time Goddess Laxshmi has been extra benevolent. Wait I will put it in the puja ghar first so that her blessings remain on us.” Saying this she went away to her Puja ghar.

“Sunny…..come here.” Ojha called for his son. After a while his son came with lethargic footsteps. “What Papa….I was studying,” he said trying hard not to yawn. “Ok then, go and study I will give this iPhone to someone else,” he winked. In a second Sunny’s demeanor changed and he beamed up. He snatched the phone from his hand. “You are the best papa in the world,” he said as he slumped down on the sofa in excitement. Ojha ruffled up his son’s hair and said, “I am going to change. Ask your mother to keep the briefcase safely, there is some cash in it.” Saying this he went away. After a while Sunny also got up and went back to his room.

An eight-year-old boy was watching all this from the corner of the room. Wearing only a ragged t-shirt that came up to his knees, he was cleaning the floor. His curious eyes were watching the ecstasy of Sunny and Sushma on receiving a gift. He hasn’t received a gift in his life. He wondered whether receiving a gift is really that satisfying. He thought of the things that satisfied him and only a full stomach before going to sleep came to his mind.  With heavy steps, he moved towards the briefcase. His eyes burned on seeing so many hundred rupees notes inside the briefcase. He looked around, no one was there. He again remembered those happy faces of his employers on receiving the gifts. He thought of giving a gift to his mother. Probably, she also has never got a gift in her life. He just imagined her happiness and almost automatically his hands went inside the briefcase. Just then a big blow startled him and then one more. He fell down like a broken twig. It took him a minute to realize it was Ojha slapping him. “Chor sala!” He screamed. The slap was so brutal that the boy’s cheeks were bleeding. He couldn’t lift himself up because of shock. “Just hand him to police now,” Sushma came rushing to the scene on hearing the noise. She also slapped her several times. Ojha lifted him up, looked him in his eyes with a fierce gaze. “Will you do it again?” he asked. The boy didn’t blink his eyes. His gaze was as fierce as his. “Not if you don’t.” His voice was crisp. Slap!! “What do you mean?” Ojha screamed, now in complete rage. “How was my stealing different from what you do? Probably, only in the sense that I got caught!” The boy replied coldly. Ojha and his wife both stood there stunned. The boy has slapped them without raising his hand.

Not Placed

“When is the list coming?” Zaid asked with utmost anxiousness. “Chill bro…..it will come. If 9 pointers like you start worrying like this then what should 7 pointers like us do,” his department’s Training and Placement Representative (TPR) quipped. He put down the phone and slumped down on his bed in his 10ft X 10ft hostel room. It was his fifteenth interview and he didn’t want it to become his fifteenth rejection. He stared blankly at the wall that he had painted with a colorful graffiti depicting the four years of an average engineering student in India. “This time I answered all the questions correctly, I can’t be rejected,” he murmured to himself. “But so I did in previous fourteen interviews,” he sighed.

His introspection session was interrupted by a beep of his smartphone. It was a whatsapp message in his department group. An image. Suddenly his breath became heavy, his heart started pounding heavily on his rib cage. The moment of truth was in front of him, again. Apprehensively, he opened the message. It was a short list with three names and none of them was his. The TPR was placed though. “Seems like a 9 pointer like me should start worrying now,” he thought. What went wrong? His mind started rewinding his entire academic life. A topper since class 1^st, he had always been the apple of eyes for his parents as well as teachers. Almost everyone was impressed by his eidetic memory, particularly his drawing teacher. He once drew the thronged square of city with sheer perfection without even looking at anything; all those people’s expression, those car brands, those shop positions were there in his head. No wonder such a brain cracked the toughest engineering entrance and made into the most reputed engineering college of country. He was already a celebrity in his family. He was the Sharma ji’s son for all his cousins. Everyone was proud of him, even he was complacent about his achievements. He enjoyed all those praise, that feeling of superiority over others who weren’t as smart as him. Even in college no one could match his beautifully wired brain, he started by topping in first semester and no one could dethrone him from that position. He had never tasted defeat…..not until now.

“First time for everything eh?” he looked in the mirror. “Loser!” his reflection derided him. He couldn’t see himself in mirror. “So now you know how it feels,” it was his cousin staring back at him from the mirror. “I think I expected too much from you. You can’t even bag a job,” his cousin got transformed into his father. His husky voice echoed in his ears. “Stop!” he pulled his hair. “Loser!” his reflection smirked. “I said STOP!” he screamed and punched on the mirror. “What went wrong? What went wrong?” His head was throbbing. There were voices screaming under his skull.

Blood oozed from his knuckle and a few drops landed on a page lying on floor. Suddenly the voices got muffled. His eyes saw a peculiar pattern in those drops. He picked up the paper and moved his finger over the paper joining the droplets in lines. In a matter of seconds, the droplets took form of a ballerina with arms stretched like wings. He looked at it for a while. A satisfying smile came up on his face but then suddenly those voices again erupted in his mind. “What went wrong?” His gaze was fixed at the caricature of a boy with graduation robes in his graffiti. “What went wrong?” He again stared blankly at the graffiti; and the answer stared back to him in oblivion.  

On the river bank

“A man in suit…..that’s new,” the old man said in his quivering voice as he sat beside Rohit. A whiff of cheap cigarette emanated from Rohit’s breath as he looked at the kurta clad scrawny old man. “What’s new about it?” he asked indifferently. “In dark nights like this…..beside this ever flowing river, I have seen people, a lot of them. Beggars with empty stomachs, sadhus with no home, wanderers who were lost, people with urns brimmed with ashes of the demised……..and this benevolent bank embraces all of them. But you seem like none of them,” the old man said. Rohit looked at him and then at the dark clouds that had muffled the full moon completely. There was ubiquitous silence, nothing but the gentle flow of river was audible. It was odd; the frogs weren’t croaking, the crickets weren’t chirping, the owls weren’t hooting and Rohit wasn’t speaking. “If not anything else……you can at least tell me your name,” this time the old man nudged him.

Rohit was irked now. If that had been another day, Rohit and the old man would have been pals by now. But that day was different. He wanted to shut him away from everything……just like the moon had shut itself from earth behind the clouds. He wanted to yell at the old man and wanted him to leave……but at that moment he didn’t have enough strength for yet another outburst, so he just replied with a lump in his throat. “Rohit…..my name is Rohit.” The old man put his arms over his shoulders affectionately. “You seem troubled young man….what’s troubling you.”

Maybe it was the eerie silence or the haunting darkness or maybe it was that affectionate gesture, the type of which he hadn’t received since the day he submerged his father’s ashes in the same river which was flowing in front of him, that made him break down after three long arduous months. He had faced everything but this was the first time that his eyes finally vented out the pain of failure. “I am a big bad failure….. I don’t know why I should live anymore,” he sobbed inconsolably.

   

“But what happened?”

“It all started three months back….. I lost the contract….the shares fell…. I lost my father….. I couldn’t pay my employees…..finally I had to close my company….. I got bankrupt and today…..they auctioned my house. There is nothing new about me mister…..rather I am some part of all the people you’ve met here.” His voice was almost incomprehensible because of the continuous sobs. A slight breeze passed over the land ruffling his airs. The old man looked patiently at the young man’s tears joining the river in its flow. “So you have come here to end your life?” The old man asked. “No…..but now I intend to.” Rohit wasn’t sobbing anymore, his voice was rather hollow. He stood up abruptly and just then his wallet slipped from his pocket, stumbled down the smooth pebbles and went splashing into the water. Rohit immediately jumped into the river and after a lot of searching finally came back with his wallet.

“How much money is there in your wallet?”

“Five hundred something….why?”

“You have lost all your fortune …..what difference a loss a few more five hundred bucks would have made that you strived so hard to get it back.”

“It wasn’t for the money….it was for this,” he showed him his wallet. There was a drenched photo of a cute little girl with sparkling black eyes and rosy cheeks. “She is my daughter…..four years now. She now lives with her mother since I got bankrupt. This is the last photo I have of her.” The old man laughed. Rohit looked at him in dismay. “What is there to laugh?”

“I am laughing at the irony dear. You said you are bankrupt yet your wallet is so rich!!”

Rohit was stunned for a while. The river now reflected the lunar light as the moon had broken away from the shackles of cloud. “My daughter used to chide me for making her search the entire house for my spects while those pair of glasses rested in the pocket of my kurta. If she were here…..she would have chided you too. Most often the things we are searching for are right there under our nose…..but our eyes couldn’t see them. You have a reason young man….a reason to live….a treasure to keep.” The old man also stood up, patted Rohit on his back and began trotting away. “Hey thanks mister….that was some good advice… I needed it. Who are you?” Rohit asked.

“Just someone who is not as rich as you are.”