Mumbai, 4.30 a.m...
The line of cars parked in the by lanes mutely watched people beginning another day – newspaper boys and milkmen doing their rounds, a few taxi drivers washing their cabs, shopkeepers arranging vegetable baskets on their shelves, maid servants ambling towards the milk booths and the factory workers scurrying to work with their lunch boxes in ever increasing numbers. The serene silence of the morning was shattered by the shrill siren of the speeding ambulance. It was followed by a line of imported cars. People stopped and looked, curious to know what was happening and who the person in trouble was. A few gathered and talked, then shrugged their shoulders and carried on with what they were doing before being interrupted by the ambulance. The ambulance, with its cavalcade, screamed through the lanes and by lanes, halting in front of the ‘Emergency’ entrance of West End Hospital. The patient was Roma, the young and the only daughter of the famous industrialist Abhinash Choudhury. She was in a critical condition and was immediately rushed into the ICU, to be connected to an array of life-support systems and monitors. Blood samples were quickly sent to the lab for a series of urgent tests and a veritable army of doctors and nurses took charge of Roma, both for being in a precarious condition and for being the precious daughter of a successful industrialist. Their efforts and the potent medicines started taking effect. When Roma’s condition stabilized, she was shifted from the ICU to a private room. As Roma’s test results started coming in, it became obvious to the attending team of doctors that her condition was indeed grave and that unless she was He could hear snatches of conversation among the medical professionals, which worried him immensely. To add fuel to his fears, Roma’s condition started deteriorating unable to bear himself, Abhinash rushed to the chamber of the senior doctor – Dr. P.K. Sawant. The distance between Roma’s room and his chamber was hardly a few feet but each foot seemed to be a mile long…. He burst into Dr. Sawant’s room. “Roma is turning blue, doctor. She is unable to breathe. Please save her, doctor, please…” Mr. Abhinash broke down, sobbing. Dr. Sawant and Dr. S.N. Rathod rushed to Roma’s room. There was a flurry of activity and Roma was once again shifted to the ICU. Dr. Sawant and Dr. Rathod, along with Dr.H.R.V Shrinivas, the hospital Dean, returned to Dr. Sawant’s chamber, where Abhinash sat slumped, with his head in his hands. They gently explained the situation to him. Roma’s condition was indeed very serious, needing urgent surgery. It was however, a very delicate operation and all the doctors they had consulted had refused to take the risk of operating a young girl with so many complications. One small error and the result would be death. Dr. Sawant got up from his chair and paced up and down the chamber, lost in thought. If only Dr. S.P.Sen had been around! Then they would not have been so helpless. It had been a good team – Dr. Sen, Dr. Sawant and Dr. Rathod. They had taken up so many “impossible” surgeries and brought beaming smiles to hopeless faces. It had been a magic team, the protagonist being Dr. Sen. Both patients and doctors swore by his name. “Damn that night,” Dr. Sawant muttered under his breath. “If only that Ankit had survived!” Chapter One THE SUFFERING SURGEON At that moment, Dr. Sen was strolling in his balcony with a glass of his favourite drink in his hand. Drink was his weakness but he loved his plants too. In fact his balcony was full of decorative and flowering plants. The various rooms were multi-coloured, in deference to the wishes of his daughters and the entire house was filled with the fragrance of fresh flowers. Dr. Sent went to the bar in the He looked wistfully at the photograph on the wall – himself with his new sapphire blue Toyota. He loved the car like a second wife. Tanu also treated the car as one of the family members. Dr.Sen was passionate about driving but had employed a driver. He looked at the photograph again – a man in his early 50s, Though a talented, renowned and respected surgeon, Dr. Sen did have a drinking habit. In fact, he was currently under suspension by the hospital’s Medical Board, a fall-out of the complaint made by the father of Ankit Jadhav, a patient who had died after he had operated on him. Actually, his drinking habit was a closely guarded secret among his colleagues but Ankit’s father had somehow got wind of it and had taken it up with the Medical Board. Now, he could not operate until the enquiry was completed and he was exonerated. Dr. Sen’s stand was that he was an FRCS from London and that his drinking only served to strengthen his will, calm his nerves, give him creative ideas and deal with his sadness. It did not affect his surgical prowess in any manner. He had claimed that he was not addicted to alcohol. To prove his point, particularly to his daughters, he would not touch liquor for weeks at a stretch. Dr. Sen continued to pace, recapitulating the operation on Ankit. His thoughts turned to his wife Mita. Mita had been his schoolmate more than 35 years back. They had fallen in love with each other and continued their love even as they were doing their graduation in the same college. Mita’s family had vehemently disapproved their alliance and had sent Mita away to another college in a different city called Kalyani. Mita too cut herself off from him completely, refusing to even meet him when he tried to approach her. Dr. Sen was shattered and withdrew from social life, depressed and forlorn. He later learnt that Mita had fallen in love with Lajan, one of her college mates, while doing her M.Sc. Botany but this boy had refused her proposal for marriage, as his family had not approved of her. He had also heard that she had been very close to 2-3 other men, including an old classmate named Chiban from her undergraduate days, who had also gone on to become a doctor. Dr.Sen however, did not know why she did not marry him for they had been intimate for a long time. There was another Romeo in Mita’s life, Dr.Ghous, a professor from the botany department of the same college. Dr. Ghous was a married and elderly After completing his FRCS from London, Dr. Sen had returned to India. He learnt that Mita was still unmarried and was working as a professor in a college. Gathering courage, he went to meet her. It was a memorable meeting. They had not met for several years and spent a long time chatting over past events, sipping tea in her cabin. After the meeting, Dr. Sen sent her a one-line note with a friend, the same evening. It simply stated: “I still love you very much. Will you marry me?” To his delight, she accepted his offer. Even her parents approved – now that he was a highly qualified and successful surgeon. Things moved very fast and they got married within a few days after their reunion. Mita quit her job and shifted to Mumbai with Dr. Sen. It was a period of great happiness for both. Unfortunately, it lasted barely six months. Dr. Sen found that Mita was extremely possessive and egoistic, resenting his talking and socializing with other women – even at parties where there were plenty of people around. At the same time, she continued her relations with her former lovers. Dr. Sen had seen their telephone numbers in his telephone bills. He had however, taken a tolerant view, realising that he too had his own ego and was at times stubborn. His love for his wife continued, though matters went from bad to worse. Mita maligned his name among neighbours, clubs and others and even threw tantrums when he had to go out of Mumbai for surgeries, Things gradually progressed to such an extent that Dr.Sen had to consult a psychiatrist after she suffered a mental breakdown, though this could have happened due to the trauma of childbirth, as his second daughter Jaya had just been born. Dr.Sen tried his best to convince her that she was the only woman he loved, but she refused to believe him. She even went to the extent of bringing a lawyer with divorce papers, which Dr. Sen refused to sign out of concern for his three daughters – their marriages and their future. In fact, Dr. Sen would frequently open his palm and show all five fingers – representing himself, his wife Mita and their three daughters – and then close his fist symbolising the strength of unity. Puja, his eldest daughter, was a physiotherapist. She was going steady with a Muslim boy. Though Dr. Sen was not aware of this, Mita knew and kept it a secret, fearing her husband’s anger. He came to know of it only when he read the letter that Puja had written to him, explaining her love for Salman. She had quietly placed the letter in his pocket one day. Dr. Sen was very much disturbed. When Puja walked out of the house to get married to Salman, he suffered his first heart attack. Paradoxically, while he was fighting for his life in the hospital, his family, including his wife Mita, was happily enjoying the wedding of his daughter. Actually, Dr. Sen was not upset over the inter-religious marriage. He was more worried about how his daughter Puja, whom he loved so dearly, would adjust to the Muslim culture. As he recovered, he came to understand that Salman was a cultured, well-mannered and handsome Kashmiri Muslim whose parents had Chapter Two MEMORIES OF THE MIGRATION His parents had been wise and had migrated to India before the ethnic riots had begun there and the situation had become so bad that millions of people, mostly Hindus, had to flee their villages and towns to take refuge in India. He had seen warplanes screaming over Agartala, during the hostilities between India and Pakistan that had culminated in the formation of Bangladesh as an independent country. He had experienced blackouts during that period and had heard countless tales of horror from people who had fled East Pakistan and from people who had met those who had fled from a reign of terror imposed by Muslims, backed by the Pakistani army on hapless Hindus. He had seen people who had gone insane from the torture and atrocities they were forced to suffer. He had seen men and women mutilated and young pregnant women who would probably never get married, though their condition was due to no fault of theirs – they had been raped, sometimes gang raped by mobs incensed with religious dogmatism. He had been told how temples had been razed there and Hindu priests forced to suffer inhuman torture. Even children had not been spared and many a woman had been so traumatised by the sight of her child being snatched from her and thrown into the flames of a bonfire made out of her own belongings that she had been struck dumb and had never uttered a single word for the rest of her life. He had also read newspaper reports of the horror of those times, of the madness that afflicted perfectly normal people and made them murderers and arsonists. Many had been brought up in the atmosphere of terror and uncertainty, of horror and desperation. Later, he had read Taslima Nasreen and other writers and had seen how they had been persecuted. His religious foundations had been shaken. He had eschewed religion altogether – it had been the cause of much violence and destruction, bloodshed and horror. He did not want any part of it. During hostel days abroad, his roommate had been a Pakistani from Karachi, but Dr. Sen had made him a good friend in spite of the animosity between the two countries. They had been friends during their college days and their friendship had endured the ravages of time. Their professions and choices had made them drift apart after their hostel days, but they still exchanged greetings during Id and Diwali. There was no divide caused by religion between them. They had recognised each other as human beings first and human beings last. Dr. Sen’s objection to Salman was not because Salman was a Muslim. Yes, there would of course be a vast cultural gap that Puja would have to bridge, but there was also that something unknown, the fear that she too may be subjected to unnecessary violence. Though he knew that Salman’s parents were decent, educated and cultured, there was a gnawing doubt in his mind, triggered by memories of the early ‘70s when his world was full of the Bangladesh liberation struggle and the horrors and terrors of human cruelty. This was too deep rooted in his mind to be erased easily. Pain always left deeper marks than pleasure. Only those who had suffered migration from Pakistan and Bangladesh would really feel the pain and hatred between Hindus and Muslims. Others could at best imagine it but never feel it. Puja and salman had both been born in Mumbai. They had never faced all the hatred between Hindus and Muslims. They had also been brought up in a secular atmosphere. Meanwhile Puja became mother to a girl. After a year his daughter, son-in-law and the little grand daughter Manna came to see Dr. Sen. He was very happy to see his granddaughter. Becoming emotional, he forgot all his pain and could not resist taking the baby in his arms and playing with her like a kid. Mita continued to quarrel with Dr. Sen. When her repeated demands for divorce did not bear fruit, she walked out of his life, preferring to stay alone leaving her two daughters Tanu and Jaya with their father. Tanu, the youngest, was in school while her elder sister Jaya was doing her first year in engineering. Dr. Sen was happy to be with his daughters. They too preferred to remain with him than to go with their mother. Father and the two daughters lived together. Dr. Sen became their friend, philosopher and guide. He was relieved to be in the company of his daughters without having to go through a legal process and relaxed too, with the cessation of the constant quarrels with his wife and her questioning his character. He became closer to his two daughters, going with them to movies and parties and taking them out for shopping, swimming or just a long drive. Finally, he went through a divorce by mutual consent. Dr. Sen led a peaceful life now as there were no more quarrels in the house. Initially, it was difficult for Dr. Sen to buy vegetables, fish, chicken etc. as he had never done household marketing but he got used to this in due course. He also did not employ a male servant as he was the only male at home and remained mostly out of station. He tried out a few women to do the cooking for the family but this did not work out as nobody relished the food they made. Finally, he took on cooking himself and the family settled into a routine with one meal cooked by Dr. Sen, one by Jaya and Tanu chipping in with small chores like boiling milk, eggs, cutting vegetables and making omelettes. At times, when they were not in the mood to cook, they ordered food from a restaurant. Cooking was fun, with some dishes turning out delicious. Some of their culinary experiments also ended in disasters and frequently, there used to be a double dose of salt, or no salt at all. Dr.Sen took the trouble of getting recipes for various dishes from his elder sister Fuldi in Bangalore by phoning her frequently. There was a part-time maid to wash the dishes and look after the general cleaning of the house. Jaya completed her engineering and her MBA and then got married and settled with her husband in the U.S. Tanu joined the medical college and was doing her final year MBBS. “We five” became “We four” after Puja’s marriage, then to “We three” when Mita left the family, proceeded to “We two” when Jaya left for the U.S. with her husband. It reduced to “We one” or rather “I alone” when Tanu too Dr. Sen’s parents already been expired long ago and due to Puja’s marriage his relatives also cut off relation with him. Now Dr.Sen was truly alone and his loneliness was biting him constantly. He became sad and morose. Chapter Three SEARCHING FOR A SURGEON Dr. David however, told Abhinash that there was a surgeon in India – that too in Mumbai – one of his ex-students, who had the skill and the courage to operate on Roma. He told Abhinash to call back in 30 minutes for his favourite student Dr. Sen’s contact details. He assured Abhinash that Dr. Sen was one of the best surgeons in the world besides being a gold medallist in surgery. Finally, a ray of hope dawned on Abhinash. He would get Dr. Sen to treat Roma, at any cost. Restless in his anxiety, he called up Dr. David after barely five minutes but the good doctor was ready with the information, which Abhinash took down, thanking him profusely for his help. Dr. David leaned back in his revolving chair and lit his pipe. It was many years ago but he still remembered the scene vividly. Dr. Sen had quietly told his seniors to move aside when they had said the case was impossible. This was in the operation theatre, in the middle of a very difficult operation. Dr. Sen, a junior at that time, was only assisting the senior surgeons but when they expressed their inability to proceed further, he had taken the lead and said he would continue. They were annoyed, but had allowed him to take over, some sure that he would fail and could therefore be blamed, some wondering what he would do and how he would proceed. Dr. Sen had stunned the senior surgeons – some of the best in the country – by his skill and steady hands. He had showed them that it was possible to do what they had felt was impossible. He had taken surgery to a new level. The patient Henry was naturally grateful, for he would have been dead had Dr. Sen not come forward and taken charge of the operation. Dr. Sen had given him a new life. Henry had offered Dr. Sen a million pounds as a token of his gratitude but Dr. Sen had politely refused the sum for himself, using it to set up a charitable hospital for the poor. He had later handed over the running of this hospital to Dr. David and returned to India. It had been many, many years ago, but Dr. David had not seen another man like Dr. Sen. All the doctors of the hospital, including himself, loved and respected Dr. Sen. It was very unfortunate that he, as the Dean, had to sign the suspension order on Dr. Sen. He had been helpless. There had been no alternative, for the father of the deceased patient was a rich and influential person. He had come to know that Dr. Sen had taken alcohol before surgery. The Dean had to follow the recommendation of the Medical Board. Now, till it could be proved that Dr. Sen was not guilty of medical negligence, he could not be allowed to operate. What a strange situation. The ‘ding-dong’ sound of the doorbell interrupted Dr. Sen’s trend of thoughts. It was 8 p.m. He had been in the balcony with his glass of Scotch, ruminating over his past. He went to the door and asked the man with the sad face to come in. Abhinash entered the room and sobbed his story, kneeling before Dr. Sen, begging him to save his daughter’s life. Dr. Sen patiently heard him before telling him that he was currently under suspension and could not operate, but Abhinash fell at his feet, promising to obtain special permission for him to operate. He would use his political influence and get the Medical Board to allow one exception of the suspension order – just for his daughter – on humanitarian grounds. Dr. Sen had to agree. Abhinash then moved heaven and earth and obtained the permission required for Dr. Sen to operate on his daughter. The operation was to begin at 5-20 p.m. the next day. Dr. Sen arranged for his favourite and trusted colleagues – Dr. Sawant and Dr.Rathod– to assist him during the surgery. The operation theatre had been booked and all the necessary preparations were undertaken. Chapter Four THE DRINKING DOCTOR OPERATES The two doctors entered Dr. Sen’s car. One seated himself by the side of Dr. Sen while the other occupied the front seat next to the driver, who was respectfully standing behind the car. Dr. Sen was drinking and discussing the case with them. Peeping through the car window, Abhinash was aghast to see Dr. Sen with a glass in his hand, barely an hour before the surgery. He was on the verge of It was his habit and though it was unusual, there was no need for Abhinash to worry over this. They told him how lucky he was to have “Sen Sir” operate on his daughter. They assured him that he was the best person to do the surgery and that they had been working with him for years and knew him well. The two doctors left a restless and confused Abhinash in his room and returned to Dr. Sen’s car, where they continued to discuss the case. After a while, Dr. Sen asked them to prepare for the surgery. He continued to sit in the car, referring to medical books and journals, for his car was a veritable mini-library. Abhinash was on tenterhooks. He could not wait for Dr. Sen to come out and start the operation. He went to the balcony of Roma’s room from where he could see Dr. Sen’s car. If Dr. Sen continued to drink and got drunk, his daughter’s life was finished. There was no way he could do anything now. It was all in God’s – and Dr. Sen’s hands. Abhinash slumped to the floor and wept. The operation theatre was world standard, with all modern gadgetry in a special glass cabin with a viewing gallery for medical students, journalists and at times, V.I.P.s. There were TV cameras to record the operation as well as show it live elsewhere. Abhinash, his wife, the Dean Dr. Shrinivas and a few others had gathered in the gallery. As instructed by Dr. Sen, the CCTV was on. The patient was wheeled into the theatre and the theatre nurses moved around busily, cleaning, draping and preparing Roma for the crucial surgery. It was 5 p.m. Dr. Sen drained his glass and removed his coat and tie. With the help of Dr. Sawant and Dr. Rathod, he changed into his operating gown and put on his cap and face mask. He was calm, though he knew that the patient would at best last This was the best, with all the necessary equipments and the operation was extremely intricate and complicated, which would demand all his skill and concentration. Moreover, the patient had to complete a course of pre-operative medication, so Dr. Sen was satisfied with the preparations and ready to wait for the theatre he was most familiar with. Dr.Sen entered the theatre at 5-10 p.m. and checked the equipments and instruments before approaching the operation table. He stood for a moment, looking at the patient. He was rock steady. The cameras started rolling and the operation began. Dr. Sen stood still, only his hands moving in quick efficiency. The attendants gave him the instruments he required, placing them in his outstretched hand even without his asking for them or looking at the giver. Scalpel, clamp, forceps and other instruments passed through his hands. He was totally focused, and anybody was watching him could not have even doubted that he had downed a few pegs before entering the OT. The observers watched with bated breaths as the operation proceeded. Though the glass was soundproof, nobody spoke a word, not wanting to disturb or distract those in the OT. It was indeed a very complicated surgery but the skill and experience of Dr. Sen was obvious and he finished the surgery well before the estimated time. He stepped back and his assistants took over the relatively simpler job of closing the wound and putting sterile gauze dressing over it to protect it from infection. Everything was proceeding smoothly. Suddenly, Roma went into cardiac arrest. Her heart had stopped beating. She was pulse less and the monitors connected to her body went haywire, beeping in panic. Dr. Sen, who had been calm throughout, could feel sweat trickling down his neck, in spite of the air-conditioning in the operation theatre. Even before he shouted “Defibrillator,” the equipment was by the side of the patient, ready for use. His assistants were poised to give the electric shock to the patient, awaiting Dr. Sen’s signal. The ECG monitor continued to display a straight, horizontal line, indicating that the heart was not showing any activity. It was critical to get the patient’s heart to beat again within 100 seconds or the patient would be dead and all their efforts would have been in vain. The clock started ticking backwards, racing from 100 towards zero. Dr. Sen stood firm and concentrated on the screens monitoring the patient’s pulse and other functions of the body. The first shock was administered at 80 seconds. There was no response from the patient. When 50 seconds were left, Dr. Sen shouted “Shock,” again and the patient’s body twitched as the shock was administered. Forgetting that there was a soundproof glass between him and Dr. Sen, Dr. Shrinivas shouted, “Don’t wait! Shock her again!” Dr. Sen however, waited, for he wanted the patient’s body to recover from the effects of the earlier shocks. Unless the timing was right, they would lose the patient. Dr. Sen waited, watching the patient. Others watched the clock ticking away… 39-38-37… “For God’s sake give the shock, man, or she’ll die!” Dr. Shrinivas shouted. Abhinash and his wife started crying. Others stood stupefied. There was nothing they could do. 18-17-16-15…. the clock continued with relentless regularity. The OT was silent. All were waiting for Dr. Sen to give the signal. 11-10-9-8-7-6-5-4… It was a bare whisper from Dr. Sen but to others in the OT, it sounded like a shout. Dr. Sen closed his eyes and swayed but was quickly held up by Dr. Sawant. Time stood still and all in the OT felt a darkness enveloping them. All of a sudden, the ECG monitor flickered. The patient has responded positively to the defibrillation. The last shock had been given at just the right moment. A second too early or a second too late would have been fatal. The patient started breathing and so did everyone else in the OT and outside, for even the observers had unconsciously held their breaths during the crisis. There was a cheer of joy in the OT. Dr. Sen opened his eyes, gave a quick check to ensure that everything was under control and without warning, started weeping in relief, as tension left him. There was much backslapping and congratulating among the OT staff. Outside the OT too, there was both celebration and weeping, but these were tears of joy. Even Dr. Shrinivas was crying, much to his own surprise. He joined Dr. Sen, Dr. Rathod and Dr. Sawant as they were washing and changing outside the operation theatre. All three escorted Dr. Sen to his car and waited to see him off. Seating himself in the car, Dr. Sen shouted “Cheers!” and smiling to himself, thought: ‘Now I deserve another peg!’ Chapter Five RUNNING FROM REALITY He sighed and looked at his right hand, which was holding his glass. He shifted the glass to his left hand and looked at his right hand again, opening and closing his palm. He kissed his fingers, one by one. He had reached his present level of eminence only because of his hand. His hand had performed countless successful operations. He was both proud and grateful. A sizeable crowd, led by Abhinash, his wife, Dr. Srinivas and others arrived at Dr. Sen’s house at 11-30 the next morning. They also included a few VIP friends of Abhinash. They carried bouquets and garlands for Dr. Sen but were dismayed to see the house locked. Just then, his neighbour came out and after talking to them for some time to find out who they were and why they had come, took out a letter from his pocket and handed it over to Dr. Srinivas. The letter read: Dr. H.R.V Srinivas Dear Dr. Srinivas, I wish to inform you in all humility that I have decided to resign from my post at the hospital and quit the medical profession altogether. I am also leaving this city for a destination unknown even to me. I have a lot of soul-searching to do and wish to do this alone. I do not know whether the Medical Board will find me guilty or innocent but I assure you that in Ankit’s case, I had performed the surgery well. I do not therefore feel that the patient’s death was iatrogenic. The decision of course, rests with the Medical Board but I do not think I will be able to live with the shame if I am declared guilty of medical negligence. I am grateful to you and to all my colleagues, especially Dr. Sawant and Dr. Rathod, for making my work at West End pleasant and meaningful. I do not know where I am going. Therefore, please do not make any effort to reach me. Thanking you, Yours faithfully, Dr. S.P. Sen Dr. Srinivas let the letter slip from his fingers and leaned against the wall. His eyes filled up. Even as others picked up the fallen letter and read the contents aloud, Dr. Shrinivas fished out another letter from his pocket. He had received it the same morning. He gave it to Dr. Rathod. This too was read out aloud: Dr. H.R.V. Srinivas Dear Dr. Srinivas, On behalf of the members of the Medical Board, I wish to inform you that the Board has carefully examined the case papers of the patient Ankit Jadhav. The persons concerned with the case have also been interviewed. Their statements have been recorded. After a thorough consideration of the case records and the depositions of the key witnesses, the Board has reached the unanimous conclusion that the patient’s death occurred due to circumstances beyond human control. It is also noted that the unfortunate death of the patient occurred not in the OT or during surgery but much later, in the ICU. We therefore exonerate Dr. S.P. Sen from the charges of medical negligence and hereby direct that he be reinstated in his post with immediate effect, with all the dignity and honour that are due to a person of his eminence. Thanking you, Yours truly, Dr. Jagannath Muhury There were frantic efforts to locate Dr. Sen. Photographers and other media personnel swarmed the house and the hospital. All efforts however proved in vain. Dr. Sen was untraceable. He had disappeared into thin air leaving his all properties behind him. Gradually, life settled down and people gave up trying to locate Dr. Sen. After some time, Dr. Sawant too resigned and set up his own Hospital. West End Hospital – at least for him – was not the same any more without Dr. Sen, who had been a father figure to all, especially to him and Dr.Rathod.
Chapter Six SEX CRAZY SÁMI Even in his adolescence, he had taken a big step towards sexual promiscuity and perversion. It was his habit to keep a pornographic novel inside his textbook. He would read this book while pretending to study. He used to spend the major part of his pocket money on pornographic magazines and pictures, of which he had a sizeable collection. As his vacation had begun, he had come to his parents’ house only the previous day. Without his usual coterie of friends, he was getting bored and his idle mind was looking for things to do. Dr. Sawant had recently employed a new maid to do the cleaning at home. She was a buxom wench called Shila. She was not only well endowed physically but was only around 30 or so and not really bad looking, though she was not likely to have won a beauty contest. Shila was a widow who had no children. Samir, used to the grumpy old woman who had been working earlier, was stunned to see this comely new maid. His mind began to run wild. He knew she always swabbed the floors of all the rooms in the morning. It would give him the opportunity to view her cleavage and her large breasts. He hoped to get an eyeful. He borrowed the alarm clock from his mother’s room, much to her surprise. Even during exams, Samir had to be woken up with great difficulty. Now in his vacation, why did he want the alarm clock? She asked him. “I want to get up early,” said Samir, not really prepared for his mother’s question. “Why do you want to get up early? It is your vacation, so you can afford to sleep late and relax. What’s the rush?” She was truly puzzled. This was so unlike the son she knew. By then, Samir had recovered. He was not unintelligent. He airily waved his mother’s question aside, saying “I want to see the morning cartoon programme on TV.” He quickly left his mother’s room with the alarm clock. He knew Shila normally started her cleaning work at 7 a.m. He set the alarm for 6 a.m. Waking up at the first ring of the alarm the next morning, Samir hurriedly went through his morning chores and switched the TV on well before 7 a.m. He was eager to begin his visual feast. He placed two cushions on the living room sofa in front of the TV. This was to gain height and be able to see better from a vantage point. He waited with growing anxiety for Shila’s arrival, getting increasingly impatient with each passing minute. Shila came into the room around 6-45 a.m. with her pail of water and the cloth for wiping. Squatting on the floor to start swabbing, she innocently greeted the young boy. “Hello Samir baba. How come you are so early today?” “I want to see something,” Samir stammered….”I mean, on the television,” he hastily added. From his seat on the strategically placed cushions, Samir had a clear view of the young woman’s bulging breasts, her cleavage and the enchanting swell on both sides of the cleft. Unaware of Samir’s leering gaze, Shila continued her work. The TV was on, but Samir’s eyes were riveted to Shila’s breasts. As she approached the sofa where Samir was sitting, she suddenly looked up and caught Samir staring at her. Embarrassed by his brazen leer, she quickly covered her chest with her sari and hurried with her work, eager to finish the room and leave. She felt distinctly uncomfortable by the way he was looking at her. It was almost as if he was not a young boy but a grown up adult. Dr. Sawant was busy in his clinic. A number of patients were waiting to see him. Some were sitting awaiting their test reports from the laboratory. A couple in their early 20s walked into his consulting room. Dr. Sawant asked them to be seated and asked what their problem was. The young man told Dr. Sawant that they had been married for well over a year but his wife was not conceiving. Dr. Sawant sighed inwardly. One more case of infertility. He wondered what was Dr. Sawant asked them a few questions and told them that they would have to undergo a series of tests. To start with, he asked the young man if he could give him a semen sample for testing. On receiving his affirmative reply, he gave him a small vial to collect the semen. He told the young man to use the examination table behind the curtained partition. He said he would be back in about 30 minutes, as he was going on his hospital rounds. Dr. Sawant got up and went out of the chamber, moving towards the wards. As soon as his back was turned, the young man quickly took his female companion behind the curtain. They drew the curtains and ensured that it provided adequate cover. Once certain, they quickly took their clothes off and started having sex – right on the examination table. They did not seem to be bothered that Dr. Sawant – or anyone else – could suddenly walk into the room, or that it would be obvious to even a passer-by of what was happening behind the curtain, for their movements were clearly shadowed on it. Anyone looking at their shadows would have had no doubt about what was going on. They finished their “work” just as Dr. Sawant returned and hurriedly putting their clothes on, came out of the curtained area. “What do we owe you, doctor?” the young man asked. “My consulting charges are 150 rupees,” said Dr. Sawant. “But you will have to pay Rs. 85 more for the semen test,” he added. He also told them that they could make the entire payment at the time of collecting the report. He asked them to come with the report after two days but even as he was speaking, the young man nonchalantly took out two hundred rupee notes from his pocket and placed them on Dr. Sawant’s table, saying the semen test was not required. They turned to take their leave. Dr. Sawant was puzzled. He did not even know if the semen sample had been collected in the vial, nor did the couple seem eager to know what the next step would be. He had expected them to come up with questions. Such couples usually had a lot of questions. “At least take your 50 rupees back,” Dr. Sawant told them. “It’s okay doctor. You can keep it.” Saying this, the boy took hold of the girl’s hand and went out, leaving a confused Dr.Sawant staring at their backs. Outside, they laughed heartily with the special euphoria of a couple who have just had a very enjoyable session of sex. “See! I told you we could manage in 200 rupees. Can you imagine how much a hotel room would have cost us? At least twice the sum, if not more!” They walked away merrily, laughing and chatting, a skip in their gait. A couple of days after Samir had got up early to see his special “show,” one day he called Shila to help him fix a photo frame on the wall of his room. “Don’t worry Shila aunty,” he assured her. “I’ll hold the stool firmly so that you don’t fall.” Shila climbed on to the stool and was busy fixing the photo frame Unknown to her, Samir, who was holding the stool, brought his face close to her buttock and very lightly brushed the sari over her left buttock with his lips. He closed his eyes. He imagined kissing the smooth skin of her buttock and its softness. He imagined her squirming in mock protest. Wouldn’t that be great! His imagination once again started running amok, but Samir was no fool. He decided to wait till his parents were out and he was alone in the house with Shila. One evening, he saw Shila standing by the window, looking out pensively. She was deep in thought. Samir silently knelt behind her and feasted his eyes on her derriere, savouring the curves and the way her sari split her rump. Suddenly, his passion took control of him. He embraced her tightly from behind and buried his face in the folds of cloth covering her buttocks. Shila gave a startled cry and jumped in surprise. She was terrified at this sudden and unexpected assault from behind. Looking back in alarm, she saw to her shock that it was Samir. After a brief struggle, she freed herself from his grasp. She was in need of the job, for her husband was dead and she had to earn a living – for herself and her old and feeble parents. Dr. Sawant paid well too, but she was not prepared for the advances of the young master. Wanting to put him in place, she sternly chastised him, telling him to behave himself. She was letting him go this time, but if he tried his tricks with her again, she would have to tell his mother. She left the room fuming. Chapter Seven WANDERING INTO A NEW WORLD With his French beard and uncombed hair that fell two inches below the ears and the jute bag dangling from his shoulder, he gave the impression that he was a poet and a gentleman. Though looking out of the window, Dr. Sen displayed signs of being influenced by the Hindi song playing on the radio of another passenger. “Zindagi ke safar mein guzar jaate hain jo makaam, vo phir nahin aate, vo phir nahin aate” This tragic song was sung by bollywood’s famous singer Kishore Kumar. ("What we lose in life, we never get back)...." the song went on. A gamut of emotions passed through him, reflected in his visage. So engrossed was he in the melancholy of the song that he did not hear the lady's voice - an elderly woman of 65 or so was offering him a plate of snacks. She therefore had to conclude from his face, his gloomy appearance and his uncommunicative stance that he was probably unemployed and going through a crisis in life. After some time, the conversation petered off and Dr. Sen leaned against the window and dozed off. As the day turned, he watched the landscape change from stray trees in undulating, barren fields to lush, dense jungles, from rocky hills with resounding tunnels to the vast green patchwork of paddy fields. Rain streaked by the window, and then cleared for a brief glimpse of the setting sun in a grey and pink streaked sky. Twilight deepened into night, and the moving lights from the compartments fell on the neighbouring tracks. The other passengers had had an early dinner and were napping on the bunks overhead, while Nani was dozing on the bunk across. Dr. Sen stretched out to ease his limbs. Sleep finally triumphed over the storm within him. It was 10 a.m. Dr. Sen woke up to the shaking of his shoulder by the elderly lady. "Sir, this is the terminus. The train will not go further. Please get up." Dr. Sen stretched himself and prepared to get off the train. "Where do you want to go?" asked the lady. Dr. Sen hesitated. He could not reply because he did not have any place to go. His evasive answers convinced the kind-hearted old woman that he had indeed no place to go. He would end up either by the roadside or on the railway platform itself. In sympathy, she insisted that he should accompany her to her house. Dr. Sen tried to refuse and made some excuses but had no option but acquiesce. They loaded their bags in a cycle rickshaw. Nani (grandmother) was chattering away non-stop during the journey. “I’m a poor woman,” she told Dr. Sen, “but I have a large heart.” She spoke about her life and about her only daughter Pratima, who was around 35 but was yet to be married. Pratima worked as a teacher in a private school. Though she hardly knew Dr. Sen, Nani confided in him, telling him of her husband’s death many years ago and how Pratima had taken over as the provider after her father’s untimely demise. Pratima had preferred to remain unmarried just to be with her mother and care for her. If she were to get married and go away to live with her husband, who would look after her poor mother in her old age? She also disclosed that mother and daughter were surviving on Pratima’s meagre salary of Rs. 1500 per month. Chapter Eight A HOME AND HOSPITALITY By the roadside, a three-year-old boy had just passed motions and his mother was washing his backside with water. He saw the filth and the squalor in the dingy huts of the slum through which they were passing. He felt a vague uneasiness within. He was not used to such environments and their disregard for hygiene. They reached Nani’s house around 11 a.m. It was a truly humble home. The fence made of bamboo sticks and small lengths of rusted barbed wire and other bits of connecting material such as old electrical wires and bits of rope and string, enclosed a small plot of about 5000 sq. ft. area in which there were two small ramshackle buildings, each consisting of two rooms. Nani and Pratima stayed in one of the two buildings. One room of the other building was the kitchen and a general dumping room, with old broken furniture and other material kept there, simply because Nani and her daughter were too poor to throw them away and there was no other place to keep them. Though small and unprepossessing, the house and its surroundings were neat and clean. The front of the house had a small garden with flowers of many hues. There was a neatly tended kitchen garden at the rear, where mother and daughter had grown a few vegetables such as coriander, chillies, lady’s fingers, brinjal, pumpkin and beans. There were a few other plants too, that Dr. Sen could not recognise. Right in front of the entrance gate made of planks of wooden packing boxes and tin sheets from biscuit and kerosene tins, was a small hollow column that contained the basil – the Tulsi plant. Dr. Sen was aware that women worshipped the plant every morning after bathing, around it and watering it with devotion. The place was so clean and tidy that Dr. Sen was amazed. He would come to know later that the house and its surroundings were swept and cleaned twice every day by Nani and her daughter Pratima. When Nani and Dr. Sen arrived, Pratima was at work. She was expected to return from school only around 2 p.m. Pratima had cooked for two persons – herself and her mother, before leaving for work. Nani made a quick inspection of the amount of cooked food in the pots and went behind the house add a few vegetables to the food already cooked, so that there would be enough for all three. Nani called Dr. Sen for lunch. “I’m not feeling hungry. Let your daughter come back. We can all eat together.” Though this was Dr. Sen’s response, he was hungry. The aroma of simple, freshly cooked food had whetted his hunger. He was reminded of his mother’s cooking and his own house, for he too had spent his childhood in a small town and his house too had been on the outskirts like Nani’s, though the plot and the house were much bigger. He visualised his old house and the trees around – mango, jackfruit, guava, coconut, lime, pomegranate. The lingering aroma of lime wafted into his nostrils. He remembered the pond where his mother cultivated fish. He himself had planted many seeds and had tended to the plants with his own hands. He remembered climbing the mango and jackfruit trees, braving the large red ants that would torment him. He remembered swimming in the pond and the stream near-by. He had been a natural swimmer and used to spend hours in the water with his friends, unmindful of his mother’s warnings. There was so much space, so much land and nature’s bounty. Where had those years gone? He had not bathed in a river or lake for years, no decades. His old days had been washed away under the bathroom shower. Dr. Sen snapped out of his reverie with the creaking of the gate. Pratima had returned from school. She was astonished to see a stranger in the house but Nani quickly introduced him and said he would be staying with them, though she did not say for how long. Pratima was annoyed at her mother’s generosity, though she did not express it, politely welcoming him. They were living a hand-to-mouth life as it was. How could they afford to support one more person? She did not show her anger or apprehension and remained silent throughout lunch, speaking only in monosyllables whenever her mother asked her a question. It was an awkward time for Pratima and Dr. Sen. After lunch, the three of them cleaned out the store room and converted it into a living room cum bed room for Dr. Sen. Then the two women went away to attend to other chores, leaving Dr. Sen to rest on an old coir cot. ‘Such simple, sweet women,’ thought Dr. Sen. They were so poor, yet so cultured and generous. Dr. Sen decided he would take up a job and support them. During dinner, Nani asked Dr. Sen his name, his family background etc, but apart from saying “I am Amit…..Amit Ray. I have passed Std. X. I am a Bengali. I have nobody and am alone in this world,” he did not volunteer further information. Nani A few days passed. Dr. Sen began to look for a job. He was offered the job of managing a small roadside tea-stall hotel. The job involved maintaining accounts and managing the cooks and waiters but Dr. Sen did not have the heart to take it up. He sought other jobs but was unable to find one that he could do. He could not reveal his true identity and had also promised himself that he would never practise medicine again. Meanwhile, he continued to live with Nani and Pratima, who gradually accepted him, as he was quiet, well behaved and did whatever help he could do around the house. Nani too developed a genuine affection for Amit – he was no longer Dr. Sen now – and the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that Amit would make a good husband for Pratima. True, he was much older than she was, but where would a 35 year old teacher with no money find a match of her age? They did not know his past but in her heart of hearts, Nani was sure Amit was a good man. One day, she gently opened the topic with her daughter. Pratima did not reply but smiling shyly, left the place. Nani understood that Pratima too liked him a lot. One Sunday, while Nani was in the kitchen, Dr. Sen went to the bamboo enclosure that served as the bathroom. The door was unlatched, so he nonchalantly entered, only to find Pratima in a semi-nude state. Though she had wrapped the sari around her, the wet cloth clung to her skin for she had removed her undergarments. Her breasts and even the nipples were clearly visible. The cloth also clung to the contours of her hips. For a moment, Dr.Sen, or rather, Amit Ray, stood stunned, unable to move or speak. Pratima however, showed no sign of surprise, for she had deliberately kept the door unlatched, wanting Amit to come in and see her charms. She had actually stayed inside the bathroom for over an hour, hoping every moment that he would come in. For what seemed an eternity, both stood face to face, looking at each other and grappling with their feelings. Pratima’s lips trembled with desire and anticipation. She wanted Amit to take her in his arms, crush her in a tight embrace and kiss her. She moved slowly towards him, lust clearly reflecting in her drooped eyelids and panting breath. Amit too, had been denied the pleasure of sex for long. He took a step towards her. They were about to go into an embrace when they were startled by Nani’s loud voice from the kitchen: “Pratima, have you finished your bath?” Amit dashed out of the bathroom in the blink of an eye and sat on his cot, panting with excitement. The moment had come and had passed. Chapter Nine ENTERING A NEW EXPERIENCE That evening, Amit had taken a different route that led him into an area inhabited by the poor and the very poor sections of society. Passing by a country liquor bar, he idly peeped through the window. He saw a bottle of country liquor on the rickety wooden table. Memories rushed in a flood through his mind. Only he knew how he passed so many days without a drink, especially in his present condition. He had become a completely broken and sad person – a person who had enjoyed the best that life had to offer and had consciously left everything behind, choosing to live in a cloud of unhappiness. His eldest daughter had given him his first rude shock by marrying a Muslim boy. Then his wife had left him. The medical circle too, for which he had given so many years of dedicated service, had defamed him. Now, he had nothing left – not even his glass of whisky. He was truly a non-entity. He had no money, no friends – even the name he had was not really his. The money he had was all in Mumbai, where he did not want to return. He was a man without ambition, without purpose, without a future. All he wanted at that moment was to drown himself in drink and forget his past. Seeing Amit looking with longing at the bottle, one of the customers inside – a gypsy called Jagan – beckoned him inside with his finger. Automatically, Amit went inside and stood in front of Jagan. His mind was in turmoil and he needed a drink desperately. Nothing else mattered at that moment. “Want to drink?” asked Jagan. Amit slowly nodded his head in affirmation. “Do you have money?” Forlornly, Amit shook his head. His lips reluctantly muttered “No.” “Free drinks are not served here,” shouted Jagan. “First bring some money and then come inside.” Amit hung his head in shame and disappointment. He turned away, forlorn and feeling utterly useless. He was about to leave the pub when Jagan called him again. “Come, come,” he said, making smacking sounds with his lips, as one would call a dog. Swallowing his pride, Amit turned back. He could hear the derisive laughter of others in the pub. He stood before the gypsy in abject surrender. His thirst for liquor had crossed all reason. “Sit down, my innocent new friend,” said Jagan, gesturing to the chair by his side. He ordered a bottle of country liquor for Amit. Used to the best of Scotch, Amit had never tasted country liquor in his life. The bottle however, was sealed, so he presumed it was made in a factory and was not the illegal hooch made by local bootleggers. He grabbed the bottle in feverish haste but not wanting to make a worse fool of himself, slowly put it back on the table. Jagan watched Amit closely. The man was definitely interesting…. “Come on, my poor friend,” said Jagan. “Have it.” All restraints broken, Amit seized the bottle and drank directly from it, not even aware of the empty glass that had been placed on the table. The liquor burned its way down his throat, settling into cosy warmth in his stomach. Amit could feel his tension seeping away as he continued to finish the bottle in almost total silence, answering Jagan’s questions in monosyllables. Intrigued by Amit’s “Yes” and “No” answers, Jagan offered him another bottle but Amit refused, politely thanking him. Jagan invited Amit to his humble shanty but this too, Amit declined with “Some other day,” and left the pub. He reached Nani’s house late at night on wobbly legs, extremely ashamed at his conduct. Nani could see his condition and smelled the liquor in his breath but said nothing. Perhaps he was seeking a way out of his tension and depression. She had never seen him drinking during all the days he had been with them. When he refused dinner, she did not insist, allowing him to go to his room and sleep. The next day, Pratima met Amit in the passage. She told him that if he did not come in time, she became worried. Amit told her he was sorry and promised her that he would take care and see that he came on time henceforth. Chapter Ten NEW LIFE FOR NANI One afternoon, when Amit was out looking for a job, Nani suffered a sudden bout and went into a paroxysm of coughing. It was so severe that she lost her consciousness. When her attempts to revive her mother went in vain, Pratima became alarmed and rushed to fetch a doctor. After examining Nani, the doctor declared that no medicine would work, as she was in the final stage of her life. He politely told her to call her close relatives so that they could have a last glimpse of Nani before she passed away. He left, leaving Pratima in tears, wringing her hands in despair. When Amit returned at 5 p.m., a crowd had collected already. Nani’s inert form was lying on a cot placed in the veranda outside the room as it was the local belief that people should not die indoors. Pratima was crying and a few neighbours were ineffectually trying to console her. Amit approached Pratima and asked her to narrate what had happened. “The doctor said she is going to die,” Pratima said between sobs. In quiet thought for a few moments, Amit asked her to show him the doctor’s prescription. When she told him he had not prescribed any medicines, Amit asked her to fetch Nani’s previous records. Though surprised, she accepted his explanation that he would show them to a good doctor he knew. She went inside to get them. While she was away, Amit hurriedly examined Nani, checking her pulse, forcing her eyelids open and looking into her eyes, pressing her abdomen etc. He took the papers from Pratima and asked for some money from her before leaving. He also instructed her to take Nani inside the house and to cover her well with a blanket. After leaving the house, Amit went to a quiet corner and examined the old records quickly, co-relating them with his own recent physical examination of the old lady. It was not difficult for a doctor of his experience to arrive at the root cause of Nani’s disease. He went to the nearest medical shop and asked for some medicines. The shopkeeper gave him a few but refused to give one medicine, which could not be sold without a prescription. Amit was in a quandary. Though his immediate thought was to ask for a sheet of paper, write and sign the prescription himself, he restrained himself, pleading that in his haste, he had left the prescription behind, and to kindly give the medicine as the patient was in a critical condition. Taking pity on him, the shopkeeper finally relented and gave him the medicine, though he did not issue a cash memo, as he did not want any repercussion. Hurrying home with the medicines, Amit administered the first dose to Nani immediately. He stayed awake throughout the night, staying by her side and monitoring her condition, giving her further doses every four hours. Pratima too, remained awake with him, touched by his concern for her mother and the care he was giving her. In the morning, Nani opened her eyes and weakly called out to her daughter. Pratima’s emotions flooded through her eyes and the weeping girl fondly embraced her mother, overwhelmed by emotion. In just two days, Nani was up and around, attending to her household chores in spite of Pratima’s protests and admonition to rest and not exert herself. Pratima was happy with her mother’s progress but also suspicious of Amit’s background, for he had miraculously brought Nani back from the jaws of death. She questioned him about it several times but Amit only gave her vague and evasive answers, never revealing his real identity. Nani continued her course of medicines for an entire month and became well. She was completely cured and never fell ill again, as she used to. This added to Pratima’s attraction for Amit and though she often went out of her way to win his heart, all she got in return was a cold response. He did not reciprocate her feelings. One evening, Amit went out looking for Jagan. After some enquiring and searching, he found the gypsy settlement on the slopes of a grassy hill slope. A few ponies and about 100 sheep were grazing near a group of about 20 huts, which were more like tents. Some children were playing near by, either clothed in dirty rags or totally naked. A few dogs were lying down, lazily snapping at flies, scratching their ears or yawning with their tongues lolling out. The womenfolk stopped sweeping or washing or cooking to stare at the stranger in their midst. A few old men sat in a group outside one of the huts, chatting and smoking bidis. One of them pointed out Jagan’s hut to Amit. Jagan was happy to see Amit, whom he had never expected to meet again. There were many who had come across the travelling gypsy. They had all come and gone, like shooting stars. Jagan called Amit into his tent and introduced him to his wife Tara. In honour of his friend, Jagan brought out a bottle of his favourite country liquor. Amit became a regular visitor to the gypsy camp. Though Jagan, Tara and Amit would usually sit inside the tent to drink, they would sit out in the open on moonlit nights. They avoided the company of other gypsies during their drinking sessions. Jagan had the habit of finishing his drink in quick gulps and then nodding off to sleep. Tara and Amit however, took their drinks slowly, chatting away till late in the night. She was young and though not fair, was rather good looking, with sharp features and a sharper tongue that would lash her opponents into submission. Tara and Amit would hold long conversations while Jagan snored in drunken stupor. After a month or so, Jagan and his gypsy band moved to another village. Jagan and a few other gypsies asked Amit to accompany them when they migrated but Amit refused. After they departed however, he became restless, as he had become used to their company. They were the only people he knew other than Nani and Pratima. He particularly missed Tara and her innocent, tinkling laughter and guileless smile. Chapter Eleven SEXY SHEILA Her sari had ridden high, exposing one leg beyond her knee. Her low cut blouse showed her young and full breasts to the wide-open eyes of Samir, who feasted on the sight. Slowly approaching the mat on which she lay, he quietly lay by her side, holding his breath in excitement, feeling her softness and warmth. Very gently, he edged closer, lightly touching her hips. When she did not stir, he became bolder and started kissing the exposed parts of her body – the back of the neck, cheek and arms. As Samir continued, Shila woke up but pretended to continue sleeping. The boy’s juvenile overtures had excited her passion. After her husband’s premature death, there had been many a night that she had tossed around, craving the touch of a male but finally going into troubled sleep, her hunger unsatisfied. Samir had ignited the volcano within her. She pretended to turn over, wantonly exposing more of herself to Samir. This served to further heighten the young boy’s carnal desire, which was what she had intended. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he rolled on top of her, pressing himself to her with abandon. Now Shila could no longer pretend to be asleep. She opened her eyes but smilingly held him tight, kissing him on the lips. Wherever his body touched hers, she felt she was on fire. In fact, since he was lying over her with maximum contact, her entire body was on flame. She fondled him passionately, stroking his cheeks, loosening her blouse and allowing his hand to reach places no man other than her husband had reached. In frenzy, both shed their clothes and though Samir was a novice, what he lacked in experience, he made up with his enthusiasm. Shila too, guided him expertly. After the frenzy had taken its course to completion, both lay panting, sweating with their exertions. Samir was young and full of energy. He had not had enough, so within minutes, he was back at the job. They started again and continued for an hour before Samir dressed and left the room. Shila too, got up and proceeded to the bathroom to wash herself and look fresh before anyone turned up and saw her dishevelled condition. Samir and Shila’s meetings took place every day, for they had the afternoons to themselves. Dr. Sawant of course was at his hospital the whole day. His wife, who used to work full-time when Dr. Sawant used to work at the West End hospital, had quit her job to help her husband when he started his own small hospital. Now, she went to his hospital only for a few hours in the afternoons, after she had taken her lunch. This was convenient for the young lovers, who left no stone unturned in their sexual dalliances. Both would be impatiently waiting for Mrs. Sawant to leave after lunch. Though Shila initially enjoyed her daily affair with her young master, she soon realised her folly and decided to put an end to it. Their clandestine meetings could turn into very serious trouble for her, for Samir and for everyone in the house. She tried persuading and reasoning with the lad, but he was like a tiger that had tasted human blood. Now he could not be stopped. Shila too, found it difficult to contain her own passion – after all, she was in the prime of her youth and had to satisfy her physical needs. One day, she made up her mind not to let Samir have his way and locked herself in her room, refusing to open the latch and let him in, but he became so furious and violent that he started shouting and banging on the door. When he went and got a hammer to break the door open, she had no alternative but to let him in and satisfy himself. Samir’s vacation was coming to an end. He would have of course liked to stay on, but also knew how strict his father was. He would not tolerate even if one class was bunked. He had great expectations from his only son. Naturally, he wanted him to become a doctor and take over the running of his hospital after him. He was totally unaware of his son’s recent exploits and his attitude of total irresponsibility. Samir spent more time with Shila, knowing he would have to separate from her soon. Lying with his head on her lap one afternoon, he asked her, “How will you manage after I’m gone? How will you live without me when I go back to the hostel?” Shila just ran her fingers through his hair and kept silent. She was torn by her desire and her guilt. Her body craved for Samir’s touch. Her mind told her how wrong it was. In addition to the moral side of the affair, she also had genuine respect and affection for Dr. Sawant and Mrs. Sawant, both of whom had lifted her out of a desperate situation and had treated her well. She was truly on the horns of a dilemma. Shila could not sleep that night, weighted down heavily by her guilt. She visited the bathroom frequently and splashed cold water on her face, as if this would help her see things more clearly and find a way out. Suddenly, she felt a sharp, constricting pain in her chest. She broke out in a sweat. She was also suffocating and could not breathe. She wanted to cry out, to shout for help but no sound came out of her throat, except for a sinister choking, gurgling stutter. She slumped to the ground, sweating profusely, the pain in her chest driving her into unconsciousness. Waking up as usual in the morning, Mrs. Sawant was mildly surprised that Shila had not offered her tea as was her usual custom. She was so prompt and never had to be reminded. Maybe she had gone to the bathroom or was still in the kitchen. When there was no sign of Shila after a while, Mrs. Sawant felt a growing alarm. Was she ill? She went to Shila’s room, only to find her form lying down. She called out to her repeatedly, asking her if she was well, but there was no answer from Shila. Her face was turned away, so she could not see her eyes, which were open and staring sightlessly. When she touched Shila, Mrs. Sawant jumped back in panic, for her body was cold and stiff. She screamed for her husband, who rushed in with his toothbrush in his mouth, but it was too late. Shila was dead. From the symptoms, it seemed that she had suffered a fatal heart attack during the night. There was nothing to do but proceed with the funeral formalities. Dr. Sawant informed Shila’s parents, who were living near-by. They arrived immediately and took her body away for the final rites. Samir had woken up late that morning. He was shocked and horrified to know that his dear Shila was no more. Her warm, soft body was now cold and stiff, and would soon be consumed by unmerciful flames. He cried and cried. Unknown to anybody, he quietly went to the bathroom and vomited twice. He kept pacing the balcony, hoping for a last glimpse of Shila. He had not had breakfast, nor lunch. Around 3 p.m., Shila’s body was brought to the gate of Dr.Sawant’s house. While his parents went down to pay their last respects, Samir watched from the balcony. Her body was placed on a bamboo stretcher, covered with a white cloth up to the neck. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Mourning relatives were trying to console her parents. A few flowers and garlands had been placed on the body. An earthen pot kept by the side threw plumes of grey smoke. As Samir was watching all this from his vantage point of his balcony, it suddenly struck him that this was the time he and Shila were usually together, rolling over each other in sexual abandon. He broke down into sobs and was inconsolable in his desolation. Crying loudly all alone on the balcony, he gradually wiped his tears and became silent. All at once, his world had become dark. Chapter Twelve GOING WITH THE GYPSIES When he reached Jagan’s new home, Jagan and Tara were overjoyed to see their old friend and welcomed him with open arms. The days passed in merriment, Amit getting closer with each passing day to Tara. Jagan too, did not seem to mind, for he never objected to their closeness. Amit began to adopt the lifestyle of the gypsies. After all, the environment did have a profound influence on the person, and Amit was no exception. Jagan had proposed several times that Amit should stay with them forever and help out with their dramas and shows but Amit was hesitant. He however, did not want to lose Tara’s company. Tara was around 32, tall for a gypsy but with a curvaceous figure that made men’s mouths water. In true gypsy fashion, she always wore a low cut blouse and a skirt that came just below her knees. Both blouse and skirt were decorated with mirrors and beads. She always had a lot of colourful bangles on both hands, and long earrings according to the gypsy custom. Amit was attracted by her alluring smile, tinkling laughter, innocence and directness as much as he was by her physical charms and youthful exuberance. Jagan’s hut as usual, was in a place away from the village, on the gentle slope of a small hill covered by small trees and bushes. The night was cool, calm and pleasant. Jagan, as was his custom, had gulped his drink in a hurry and was sleeping to the accompaniment of stentorian snores. Though they had a happy life together, Jagan’s habit of going to sleep immediately after drinking left Tara empty and unsatisfied. She wanted a man, for sex with Jagan was infrequent, on rare afternoons when Jagan was not drunk. Amit, with his mysterious manners and vast knowledge, would do nicely. She edged closer to Amit, their bodies touching. A cosy warmth enveloped her. She looked at Amit, her eyelids drooping in lust. Perhaps she could get the physical and emotional fulfilment from Amit – something she did not get from her husband. Her desire had now taken the form of craving. They were sitting on a mattress outside the tent, which was a bit removed from the cluster of tents belonging to the other members of the clan. Suddenly, Tara got up, telling Amit that she wanted to pass urine. Amit was surprised when she asked him to accompany her, for gypsy women were usually quite bold and not afraid of the dark. Still, he accompanied her, politely standing aside behind a bush, but she caught his hand and pulled him with her, unabashedly lifting her skirt and squatting on the ground. As expected, she did not use underwear. Not having seen anything above her shapely legs, Amit was taken aback by the sight of her smooth beautiful buttocks, which were clearly visible in the bright moonlight. He could also hear the sound of urine hitting the ground. He had been denied the pleasure of sex for long. In spite of himself, he could feel the stirring of his arousal. Tara stood up, letting the skirt fall down, came to Amit and looking into his eyes, embraced him tightly. Quickly pulling him to a secluded, grass covered spot behind another, larger bush, she kissed him on the lips, on the chin and all over his face. She took his hand and placed it on her heaving bosom. Amit was swept away by her passion, his own matching hers. They continued to explore each other’s bodies with their hands and lips, quickly shedding their clothes, naked to the world but watched only by the unwinking eye of the moon. They devoured each other and wanted more, in all possible positions – standing, sitting and lying down. She had never read the Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana but seemed to know all the 69 asanas and a few more positions as well. Amit had been to the temples of Khajuraho and together, they brought the temple sculptures alive. Their passions satisfied, they returned to their tent to sleep, tired but happy. Thereafter, Amit and Tara used every opportunity to continue their sexual activities, sometimes creating an opportunity to vent their desires. As days passed, their intimacy grew. Amit became totally besotted with Tara and nothing mattered to him except to be with Tara and to see her happy. Returning one night after a heavy drinking bout with some of his friends in another tent, Jagan paused at the entrance of his tent, hearing moans. Cautiously peering inside, he saw Amit and Tara in a tight embrace. Their lips were glued to each other and there was no space between their bodies. Amit’s hands were on Tara’s buttocks, pressing her to him even more tightly. Bellowing in rage, he drew his dagger from his waistband and entered the tent. His eyes were bloodshot with liquor and anger. Amit stood petrified, but before Jagan could do anything, Tara had moved between the two men, preventing Jagan from reaching Amit. After a brief struggle, Jagan pushed Tara away and stabbed Amit in the abdomen. Withdrawing his bloodstained knife, he plunged it into Amit repeatedly, leaving him in a crumpled heap on the mud floor, blood running in rivulets from his body. Tara had got up by then, and with a scream, attacked Jagan, beating him furiously with her bare fists. Jagan stepped back, startled. It was all his imagination. He was still just outside the tent. Shaking his head to clear the effect of alcohol, he saw Amit and Tara still in each other’s arms, their hands constantly moving in intricate expressions of passion. Not fully in his senses, he groped for his dagger, intent on killing Amit, but could not find it. He had either left it where he had been drinking, or it must have fallen somewhere on the way. “I will kill the bastard,” he muttered under his breath, picking up a heavy stone lying a few feet away. “I will smash his head with this stone and feed his body to the vultures.” He was however, extremely drunk and staggered, partly due to the drink and partly by the weight of the heavy stone. Falling down with a ‘thud,’ he passed out. Hearing the sound of his fall, Amit and Tara broke apart and rushed out to see Jagan lying unconscious in front of the tent. They picked him up and put him to sleep inside the tent. Amit was apprehensive. He felt sure Jagan had caught them in the act and was afraid of his vengeance when he woke up. He wanted to run away immediately. Tara however, was cool and assuaged Amit’s fears, preventing him from leaving the place in the dead of the night. She assured him that she knew Jagan well, and could control him in any situation. Not fully satisfied, Amit went to bed, uneasy in mind and unable to sleep. The only saving grace in the whole situation was that he was not sure that Jagan had seen them, nor was he sure if Jagan would want to kill him even if he had witnessed their love-play. Tara had also told him that in the worst-case scenario, she would come with him and they would run away to some other place together. Jagan woke up around 11 a.m. the next day, still foggy with drink and sleep. Seeing Amit, he became furious but when he saw him standing quietly, began to doubt whether he had really seen Amit in a compromising position with his wife Tara or if it was all a figment of his drunken imagination. He clapped his hand to his head and smiled. “What a night,” he exclaimed. “I had too much to drink and on top of it, I had the most horrible dream!” He looked at Amit and Tara and continued, “I think I will go to sleep again. Don’t wake me up and don’t worry, everything will be all right.” He promptly lay down again and within moments, was snoring loudly. Amit heaved a sigh of relief. Tara looked at him and smiled slyly. Amit’s lifestyle had totally changed. He had become a gypsy like the rest of the clan. His previous days, the West End hospital, why, even Nani and Pratima were becoming distant and vague memories. He dressed like them; he drank like them – during the day too, and at night. He worked side by side with the other men, helping them pitch camp or to pack and move out. At times, he could be seen announcing their drama programmes with a bottle in one hand a conical megaphone in the other, crowds of curious villagers flocking to hear him. Nobody could have ever imagined that this dirty, turbaned gypsy was the once world famous Dr. S.P. Sen. Chapter Thirteen AMIT’S RESCUE AND RETURN Abhinash was amused to see the band of gypsies with their ponies, dogs and naked, noisy children and by the sight of a drunken, turbaned man staggering along behind a bullock-cart on which a pretty, young gypsy woman was seated. The man had a megaphone in one hand and a bottle half-full of yellow fluid, obviously alcohol, in the other. Hardly able to walk, he was struggling to announce the programme through the megaphone. The scene was so quaint. He pressed the button to roll down his window glass, took out his camera and clicked a few photos of the procession, especially of the drunken gypsy with the megaphone. Though he could see him clearly, he did not recognise him as Dr.Sen, the man who had miraculously saved his daughter from certain death. Who would have expected the renowned Dr. Sen to be walking along this band of gypsies – dirty, unshaven, drunk and in typical gypsy attire? Amit too, did not notice Abhinash, or even the car. He carried on, unmindful of his surroundings, his eyes only on Tara, seated on the bullock-cart with her pots and pans and other household items. The gypsy caravan passed, Abhinash put the window glass up and the A.C was switched on as the car surged forward. There was one by-stander however, who had not only seen but had also recognised Amit. He was one of Nani’s neighbours and had seen Amit frequently when he was staying with Nani and Pratima. He promptly informed Nani, for he knew that she and her daughter had been searching high and low for Amit. They were worried, for it had been more than a month that he had left them and not even bothered to inform them of his welfare or whereabouts. On hearing the news, Nani and Pratima rushed to the gypsy encampment. They spotted Amit among the men, too drunk and dazed to even recognise them. Mother and daughter wanted to take him back with them but the gypsies, especially Jagan and Tara, refused to let him go. They quarrelled, reasoned and pleaded, but the gypsies were adamant. Amit belonged to them. Nani’s and Pratima’s loud wails drew the attention of other villagers and soon, a crowd had gathered. Some of the villagers knew Nani and Pratima. When they heard Nani’s story, they took her side and argued with Jagan and his band. Seeing how they were outnumbered, the gypsies finally allowed Nani and Pratima to take Amit with them. Thanking the villagers profusely, Nani and Pratima bundled Amit into a rickshaw and took him home. Pratima went to a doctor and spoke to him about Amit’s drinking problem. The doctor prescribed some sleeping tablets, which Pratima powdered and gave him with milk every night. Feeling sleepy, Amit would go to bed soon after dinner. In a few days, he was free from his craving for drink. Grateful to Nani and Pratima for their love and care, he once again took up his search for a job. Chapter Fourteen LIVING IN LOVE In the village where they had set up camp, there was a young boy of around 25 years, named Rahul, the only son of a rich landlord. A spoilt brat, he had done his schooling in the village itself but had not bothered to study further, preferring to spend his father’s money on liquor and flirting with girls. Driving his jeep with his driver by his side, he spotted Tara at the village market and was immediately attracted to her youthful charms. This was a new girl, for he had never seen her before in the village. He told his driver to follow her and find out her whereabouts and other details. The driver got down from the jeep and began following her without her knowledge. He saw her go inside a tent in the gypsy camp. There were many other tents of gypsies in the vicinity. The driver came back and reported the information to his master who told him to go to the tent of the girl again with some cash and a bottle of liquor and get acquainted with whoever was inside – it did not matter whether he was brother, husband or father of the girl he had seen in the market. Rahul wielded considerable clout in the village, as the son of the rich zamindar. He was also known as a reckless hooligan who knew he had power over the villagers, who were scared of him. Rahul was used to having his way. The driver, taking the excuse of being interested in theatre and drama, went to the gypsy tent and made acquaintance with Jagan. They spoke about the shows the gypsies did and after some time, the driver asked for two glasses, taking the liquor bottle from his pocket. The high quality liquor amused and impressed Jagan, who was only used to country liquor and locally brewed hooch. He went into the tent and came out with two glasses and a jug of water. Pouring the liquor into the glasses, the driver shyly asked Jagan to call his wife too, but Jagan declined with a shake of his head. As it was their first meeting, the driver did not insist. He knew how to handle matters for his master. While Jagan gulped glass after glass in his usual manner, the driver carefully sipped his drink, limiting himself to just one peg, using the opportunity to talk about Rahul, how he was crazy about drama, how he had a large stock of good, costly liquor and how well he treated his friends and employees. He was also lavish with his money and made sure that his friends were in comfort. Would Jagan like to be Rahul’s friend? Sowing the seeds of desire for liquor and money in Jagan’s mind, the driver quietly slipped him some cash and left the gypsy camp. Finishing off the bottle after the driver had left, Jagan started thinking. The driver’s words were enticing. Rahul was a rich man, mad after drama and free with his drinks and his money. By just making friends with him, Jagan could have all the liquor he wanted delivered to his tent, plus money to keep him in comfort. If Rahul wanted to be his friend and share his booze and wealth, who was he to object or question him? After all, the man only wanted company and association with the theatre. What was the harm? Though Jagan initially kept Tara away from Rahul, their daily meetings and drinking together naturally brought Tara to Rahul and eventually all three of them would sit and chat together over drinks. Rahul would come every evening and leave at night. Though he was initially attracted to Tara only due to her physical charms, he saw her innocence and her inner beauty in due course and started genuinely liking her. He found himself coming closer to her and thinking more and more about her – day and night. Was he falling in love with her? Now that drinks were freely available, Jagan’s drinking increased. He continued to drink at all odd hours despite warnings from doctors to stop, as his liver was severely damaged. Taking advantage of Jagan’s addiction to liquor, Rahul would take Tara to the village market and buy dresses, colourful bangles and ornaments for her and load her with creams, perfumes and other cosmetics. He also used to take her on long drives in his jeep. Not used to such luxuries, Tara basked in them, happily chirping and jumping around like a child. To his credit, Rahul too treated her with dignity and did not take liberties with her. One day, in the middle of a performance, Jagan collapsed on the stage itself. He was immediately taken to the hospital but was declared dead on arrival. Tara stood dazed, tears rolling down her cheeks, too stunned to react to Jagan’s sudden death. Rahul stood beside her and consoled her, telling her not to worry and that he would look after her. He kept his word, ensuring that she was well provided for and comfortable. Naturally, the villagers soon came to know of his dalliance with Tara. The news finally reached Rahul’s father, who objected to the affair but Rahul was adamant. After some time, he took Tara with him and moved to another village, ignoring his father’s pleas and protests. Though Rahul did not marry Tara, the couple lived as husband and wife, enjoying conjugal bliss to the full. Tara however, began to fall ill frequently and doctors advised Rahul to take her to a bigger centre in Mumbai. She needed further investigations and specialised treatment. Rahul therefore took her to Mumbai, staying in a hotel for a few days before moving into a rented flat. They hardly stayed at home, going out every day for sightseeing, eating out at restaurants. At times, they would go to a movie or spend the day at the beach. They were very happy. Tara had undergone a vast change. She was no longer an uncultured gypsy girl. She wore saris at Rahul’s request and became used to the comforts and luxuries of modern urban life. She did not even look like a gypsy girl any more, appearing more as a sophisticated, glamorous young urban woman. She had never seen such comforts and was having a grand time. Rahul too had changed from a wastrel to a responsible young man. While Tara gave up drinks altogether, Rahul very rarely had a glass or two. Tara’s beauty, innocence and simplicity had transformed him. When the news of his son’s reformation reached him, Rahul’s father paid a visit to the couple in Mumbai. He spent a few days with them. He was dazzled by her beauty and touched by the care she lavished on him. He was also happy to see Rahul and Tara truly in love with each other and the salutary changes she had effected on Rahul. Returning to his village, he discussed the situation with his wife and they decided to get Rahul married to Tara. Tara’s test reports brought bad news. She was suffering from cancer, which was so advanced that cure was impossible. She was admitted at West End hospital. Rahul had taken a private room to make her feel as comfortable as possible. He engaged a battery of cancer specialists to treat her. She underwent chemotherapy and radiotherapy but in spite of the best of medical care and attention, her condition deteriorated rapidly. Rahul’s father kept sending money for her treatment but one day, she died quietly in her sleep. Rahul was heartbroken. He felt empty and life held no meaning for him without his beloved Tara. He cried and cried bitterly, as if he had lost his wife. He was emotionally shattered. Strange are the machinations of fate. Though Dr. Sen remembered Tara with great fondness for the rest of his life, he never came to know that she died in the same hospital where he had worked. Chapter Fifteen THE PRETTY PRIYANKA She was mostly in sari, very rarely in salwar-kameez or jeans and a shirt. She was also well mannered and compassionate, often treating the poor free of charge and providing them medicines from her stock of free samples. Unlike her father, she was honest and straightforward. Father and daughter had separate clinics in the same bungalow. On her 25th birthday, her father had given her a surprise gift. It was an imported Toyota sedan, the car she had always been dreaming about. She was used to her father’s Maruti Zen, but this in a different league altogether. It was also her own car. Not only was it much larger than her Zen, it also incorporated the latest developments in automobile technology and featured extremely sophisticated gadgetry that neither she nor her father could understand. Therefore, soon after she hugged her father and kissed him on the cheek for his wonderful gift, she realised that she would have to get herself a driver, for she could not drive. She advertised for a driver in the local papers. Several drivers came and went, but nobody was familiar with the push button technology she saw within. They left, expressing their lack knowledge and inability to manage the car. The car continued to remain in the garage. Priyanka however, did not like the car to be in the garage, so she had it pushed to the centre of her lawn, where it could be hosed down with water and polished till it shone in the sun – a sight Priyanka loved to see from the balcony. Though only father and daughter stayed in the house, it was a palatial mansion with a lawn and well maintained rows of flowering plants in the front. The house itself must have been around 15000 square feet. Ever since Priyanka’s mother died two years back, it was their trusted old maid Basanti who looked after the kitchen and most of the housework. There were two watchmen who worked in shifts and also did most of the other work like cleaning the premises, procuring groceries and vegetables, looking after general maintenance etc. They lived in the servants’ quarters in the rear of the house. There was a separate quarter for the maid too and a special guesthouse containing a bedroom, hall and kitchen, completely self-contained and fully furnished. Priyanka found it convenient to work in the government hospital at Agarta and attend to her clinic at home, after her duty hours. It would have been better though, to have been able to go in the royal comfort of her imported Toyota. If only she could get a good driver…. The only person who claimed to know how to drive the car turned out to be a disaster. Wearing jeans, T-shirt and a baseball cap, he was a thin, look-alike of the Bollywood comedian Keshto Mukherji. On closer look, he even resembled Keshto with his typical Hitler moustache. When she got into the passenger seat of the Toyota by the side of the driver, Priyanka could even smell the liquor on his breath. “Do you think you can drive this car?” she asked him. “No ma’am,” said the man. “I no think. I drive. No fear. Sit tight.” Starting the car, he pressed his foot on the accelerator pedal. The car zoomed forward and hit the wrought iron gate, shattering the headlamp on the right and coming to a halt. Fortunately, nobody was hurt but Priyanka was rudely shocked, more so because of the damage to the car than anything else. “Look what you’ve done, you idiot,” she shouted, even as her watchman dragged the drunken driver out and gave him a hard slap. Not one bit contrite, the driver told Priyanka: “Sorry, ma’am, your car no listen me. No good. What happened, happened. What not to happened also happened. Now better I go, you go.” He vanished from the scene. The car was still at the same place when Dr. Mathur came home in the evening. He tried to start the car but was not really good at driving, with a long history of dented fenders, broken headlamps and smashed tail lamps to his credit. Finally, he put the car into neutral gear and had the two watchmen push it while he steered it away from the gate and into its old place on the lawn, where it continued to lie unattended and unused. Passing by Priyanka’s house one day, Amit saw his favourite Toyota parked on the lawn inside. The gate was open and there was nobody around. As if drawn by a magnet, he automatically went to the car, caressing the bonnet, the windscreen, the door etc. with great fondness. He was reminded of his own Toyota back in Mumbai, and how he loved the power of the vehicle. He would often shoot past other cars, whose drivers would stare at him with their mouths open. The harsh shout of the watchman brought him to the present with a jerk. It also brought Priyanka out of the house, curious to know what was going on. The man looked decent, so the watchman did not manhandle him or use harsh words, though he did ask him sharply who he was and what he wanted. Priyanka then took charge, motioning to the watchman to be quiet. “Madam…” the watchman began, but she silenced him with one look. “Do you know driving?” she asked Amit. “Yes,” replied Amit. “Can you drive this car?” “Sure,” he replied. “Of course I can.” Telling him to wait there, she went back to the house and fetched the car keys, which she gave him. Amit immediately got in behind the steering wheel and reached out to open the front passenger door for Priyanka, but realising what he was doing, he quickly got out and opened the left rear door for her with a “Sorry, madam.” Priyanka was pleased with his behaviour. “No, no, it’s all right. I will sit in the front,” she said, suiting action to her words. Turning the key and enjoying the smooth purr of the engine, Amit slowly and gracefully took the car out of the gate and halted. With one foot pressing the clutch and the other the brake, he politely asked Priyanka, “Where do you want to go, madam?” and added, “Can you please direct me? I am new here.” “Okay,” Priyanka said. Take a right turn now and then drive wherever you want. I will guide you while coming back.” The car moved through the narrow streets of Agarta before coming to a larger road. Amit pushed his seat back a bit to get more leg space. Priyanka watched him operate the lever and the various controls of the car without even looking for them, as if he was used to them. On the other hand, Amit was indeed used to the car, for it was the same model that he used to drive in Mumbai and though he had employed a driver, he found driving a pleasure. He gradually increased the speed of the car, remembering his old days when he used to drive at over 120 km per hour – but only when the roads were empty and there was no risk. Suddenly, Priyanka looked at the speedometer, which was showing just over 100 kmph. She had not realised that they were going so fast. She quickly asked him to slow down and the cruised along at a steady speed of 60 kmph for some time, before they returned to Dr. Mathur’s bungalow. Amit parked the car in the same place, checked that all the windows were up and locked the car with the remote, handing over the keys to Priyanka. “You drive quite well,” said Priyanka. “What do you do for a living?” “At the moment, I’m looking for a job,” Amit replied. “Will you drive this car?” “I will be happy to. I need a job.” “How much salary are you expecting?” “I have no expectations,” replied Amit. “I will accept whatever you give me.” Priyanka was amazed. After so much of fruitless effort, here was a driver – as if sent by God – and he did not have any demand! She was afraid he would ask her for an exorbitant salary. She was touched. She had already discussed the matter with her father while placing the advertisement for a driver. She decided to offer him the same salary, though she was sure he would accept even if she offered him less. “I will pay you Rs. 3000 per month. Is it okay?” “Yes, madam.” “Then come at 9 a.m. tomorrow. I will tell you what to do.” “All right, madam,” said Amit, relieved that he could now contribute to Nani’s family and happy that he would once again be driving his favourite car. He took her leave. Chapter Sixteen DESTINY DRIVES AMITY Nani and Pratima were overjoyed to learn that Amit had got a job, that too with a starting salary of Rs. 3000, which was quite good for a small town like Agarta. Amit handed over his entire salary to Nani, who refused to accept it. She said she would keep only Rs. 1000 and he could have the rest. They quarrelled in good humour and finally decided that Amit would keep Rs.500 for his pocket expenses and give Rs. 2500 to Nani every month. The humble house began to prosper. Minor repairs were carried out, all household expenses were managed comfortably with a little to spare too, and Pratima could even clear some of the major debts she had incurred during Nani’s illness. It became a brighter, happier home. Amit would leave early in the morning, take Priyanka to the government hospital, take her lunch box at 1 p.m. and finally drop her home in the evening. Rarely, he would drive her to the shopping area or to one of her friends’ place. Though he would always want to open the door for her, she would politely tell him that this was not required. She would open the door herself, though she always sat at the rear and not next to him. Her repeated attempts to know more about him and his background were either met by stony silence or terse replies that did not encourage further questioning. One day however, she was insistent. “Amitji, please tell me about yourself – I mean about your family.” Amit heisted for a mere second before gruffly replying, “My name is Amit Ray. I have studied till Std. X. I am a Bengali. I am alone in this world.” After this incident, Priyanka stopped questioning Amit about his family and his background. One day, Priyanka told Amit, “If you don’t mind, Amitji, may I request you something?” Amit was surprised but politely replied, “Yes madam, I am always at your service.” Priyanka’s next question took him aback. “Would you mind tucking your shirt inside your trousers and wearing shoes, please, instead of sandals?” “But I’m quite fine the way I am,” Amit stammered. He however, had to relent when she repeatedly requested him to do this much for her. When Amit reported for work the next morning, Priyanka was amazed. He wore a dark blue full-sleeved shirt neatly tucked into ironed, white trousers. A belt and polished black shoes completed the picture. She was stunned by Amit’s transformation. Amit had actually thought of getting himself a pair of white shoes to go with his favourite blue and white combination but gave up the idea as he felt it would not suit the job and the situation. He had also bought a sari for Nani and another, brighter sari for Pratima. As expected, they were delighted. Amit’s personality had blossomed now. The butterfly had emerged from its drab cocoon. Priyanka’s friends and even her father expressed their amazement and appreciation for this elegant, well-mannered driver. He became well-know among Priyanka’s friends. Amit had taken leave one day, to attend to some work at home. He had obtained permission from Priyanka, who said he could have the day off. She would manage on her own. That day however, her father could not drop her as his car battery was down. His car just would not start. She thought of taking a taxi or a rickshaw, but a sudden ‘bandh’ called by a political party over some trivial issue had made all taxis and rickshaws go off the roads. Finally, she walked to the hospital. It took her about 30 minutes. Observing Priyanka coming by foot, her co-doctor and close friend Manisha jokingly asked: “How come you are alone today? Where is your boy friend?” She was of course referring to Amit, for she knew Priyanka had a soft corner for him. Coming from a dear friend and in jest, Priyanka did not mind, though she told Manisha in mock anger: “Shut up, Manisha and mind your own business. Amitji is so senior … he is like an uncle to me. You know what ‘uncle’ means, I hope.” The friendly tirade had no effect on Manisha. “Ho ho! Amitji…. Uncleji…” she teased. Priyanka simply smiled and the two friends went together to attend to their duties. The next day, when Amit learnt that Priyanka had walked to the hospital in the morning, he felt bad. At least Manisha had dropped her back in the evening. On the way to the hospital, he asked Priyanka – “Why don’t you learn driving? It is very simple.” Priyanka pretended to be alarmed. “No baba,” she said. I can’t drive even a small car. How can I handle this big bull?” Amit however, managed to convince her that driving a big or small car did not make much of a difference and that she could very well learn how to drive the Toyota. He even taught her how to judge the distance through the windshield and to know where the front bumper was – information that would be valuable to her by enabling her to stop before hitting a person or an object. After a few days, when Priyanka had some free time, Amit took her to an open ground to teach her how to drive. After explaining the functions of the clutch, brake, accelerator and gears, he also taught her about the electronic controls of the car and the various push buttons. Telling her to release the hand brake, put the car into neutral gear and then start the engine, he continued, telling her to press the clutch fully with her left foot, change from neutral to first gear and then release the clutch slowly, at the same time increasing pressure on the accelerator pedal. Priyanka was unable to get the hang of it initially, either pressing the accelerator too much so that the car shot off or releasing the clutch without pressing the accelerator, making the car stop with a jerk. They shared the driver’s seat as Amit had to teach her how to operate the controls. He was a patient teacher and she was a good student. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she was able to master the technique. Amit guided her to steer correctly and move the car in the required direction at the required speed. Priyanka could feel his thigh touching hers as they sat close together and the warmth of his body with a faint but heady male smell. Whenever Amit’s hand touched hers while helping her steer or change gear, she felt as if an electric current was passing through her body. She did not fully understand these feelings but they were enjoyable. Their physical closeness also made them freer with each other, and they laughed together when Priyanka made some silly mistake or could not avoid a pothole or a ditch. Amit helped her by placing stone markers on the ground asking her to weave the car between them, making figures of ‘8’ and other intricate manoeuvres. In just about a fortnight, Priyanka learnt how to drive fairly well, though she did not have the confidence to manage the big car in crowded areas and congested roads. She was happy though, that she had finally learnt to drive. Her happiness made Amit too, happy. Chapter Seventeen LOVE AT LONAV He asked Nani if he should go with Dr. Mathur and his daughter. Nani was initially reluctant. Both Nani and Pratima were apprehensive in letting Amit out of their sight for three full days. They feared he would once again disappear from their lives. Still, it was not as if he was going on his own. Dr. Mathur and his daughter would be with him, and he had the responsibility of bringing back safe and sound. She therefore acquiesced, telling him that if his bosses wanted him to go, he should not annoy them by refusing. Relieved, Amit thanked Nani and went to pack his clothes in a small air bag. Father, daughter and driver started their journey at 9 a.m. on Saturday. Their bags were stowed in the trunk of the car, the AC was on and there was soft music playing on the car stereo. Priyanka would have preferred to sit by Amit’s side in the front but out of respect for her father, sat in the rear with him. They halted for a short while on the way for tea, Amit sitting away from Dr. Mathur and his daughter, at another table. Dr. Mathur was pleased at his driver’s humility but somehow, Priyanka was not in tune with her father’s feelings. Refreshed and rested, they continued their journey to Lonav. Dr. Mathur’s old friend Bikash had a plush bungalow named ‘Ashiyana’ on top of a small hill covered by tall deodar and eucalyptus trees and flowering wild plants and shrubs. It was nature in its raw beauty. The large house too, was well maintained, for it was used as a holiday resort for the close friends and relatives of Bikash. It was a Victorian mansion with high ceilings and large rooms, fireplaces and verandas overlooking a neatly manicured lawn with a few tables and chairs under garden umbrellas. The hedges were neatly trimmed and geraniums, asters and gerberas competed in colour with a variety of rose and hibiscus plants. The drive-in and the premises had been swept and were clean. The gardener was an old hand, dedicated to his job and to his master, for whom he had been working for many years. The view from the porch of the bungalow was picturesque, green hills and a flame of the forest tree here and there providing a colourful contrast. There were a few houses dotting the hill slopes, a lazy cloud wandering in search of its companions who had disappeared in the mid-day sun. Amit halted the car in front of the large gate and used the car horn to summon the short, Nepali watchman, who came scurrying to open the gate. Raghu too, was an old employee of Bikash, very hard working and reliable. He stayed in the outhouse with his wife, ten-year-old daughter and eight-year-old son. He knew Dr. Mathur well, for Dr. Mathur had visited ‘Ashiyana’ many times with his family, when Mrs. Mathur had been alive. Raghu was pleased to see them. He was happy when there were guests, for it meant people, company and above all, tips. Saluting Dr. Mathur and “Priyanka memshab” smartly, he ran behind the car towards the bungalow after closing the gate. Alighting from the car, Amit stretched his limbs to get the stiffness of the journey out. Dr. Mathur went into the house even as Raghu was getting the bags out. Priyanka came to Amit and said “It must have been a tiring drive but I wanted you to come so that we could see the beautiful spots together. Dad is no longer as energetic as he used to be and prefers to play chess at home with his friends.” “Okay madam,” Amit responded politely. “Don’t call me ‘madam’ hereafter. Is that clear?” Priyanka smiled and pouted her lips at him. After lunch and a bit of rest, Dr. Mathur and Priyanka went out for sightseeing. Raghu accompanied them. Dr. Mathur usually went along with his daughter on outings – at least on the first day. They chose to walk, so Amit was left behind. Amit was accommodated in the servant’s quarter. One room was allotted to him with Raghu’s family. He had to share the same bathroom and same toilet. He smiled to himself and adjusted with the arrangement. Priyanka did not know about this. He was alone and bored, not being familiar with Raghu’s family or the other servants. During dinner, Priyanka gently suggested to her father that Amit should accompany them on their outings as he would get bored staying in one place, alone, without any known person around. Dr. Mathur agreed. The next morning, Priyanka, Dr. Mathur, Raghu and Amit set off for Ajan, a historical place on top of a small hill a few miles away. They reached the base of the hill, parked the car and started to climb the small hill, which was about 100 ft high. Though there were steps cut into the rock, it was tough going and soon, Dr. Mathur was straggling behind the other three. Priyanka was looking very beautiful, dressed in a black sari that set off her fair skin. Seeing that her father was struggling far behind, she told Raghu to go back and help him. Raghu was not keen on going back, for if a driver could accompany the pretty, young girl, why couldn’t he? He left reluctantly, darting an envious glance at Amit. He did try to help Dr. Mathur up the steep steps but very soon, Dr. Mathur became breathless. His arthritis was also beginning to trouble him. Not wanting to push himself any further, he told Raghu to go ahead and inform Priyanka and Amit to carry on as he could not climb further. Being an agile Nepali used to the mountains, Raghu quickly caught up with Priyanka and Amit. “Madam, doctor shab has said that we should go ahead. He does not want to come.” Raghu deliberately said “we” as he wanted to be with Priyanka and admire her beauty but Priyanka told him to go back and take care of her father. Raghu’s feeble protest, “But madam…” was quickly brushed away by Priyanka with “Somebody has to be with daddy. You take care of him. Amitji is here with me.” Dismayed, Raghu had to nevertheless obey, though unwillingly. This was what priyanka had wanted, for she had planned to be alone with Amitji. Once Raghu was out of sight. Priyanka and Amit resumed climbing and they quickly reached the top of the hillock. They sat on a rock to catch their breath, looking at each other. Priyanka’s breasts were heaving with exertion – or was it just the physical exertion? A few minutes of rest, and Priyanka took out her camera and clicked a few photographs of Amit against the scenic backdrop. Getting up and dusting her dress, she told Amit, “Come on, let’s see some more places.” They walked further, Priyanka leading the way, Amit following. After going a short way, Priyanka slipped on a gravel patch on the hill slope and would have fallen if Amit had not caught her arm and steadied her. Instinctively, Priyanka grabbed him in a tight embrace. They remained in a tight clinch for a few moments, electricity coursing through their veins. Embarrassed, Priyanka freed herself. Noticing blood on her foot, Amit quickly took out his handkerchief, tore it into strips and tied a bandage on her wound. She looked up at him. “Thank you for saving me from falling, and also for dressing my wound,” she said. Without thinking, Amit replied: “It’s my pleasure, anybody would have done the same for you.” Priyanka was stunned, for Amit had always spoken to her in Hindi but this time, he had spoken in English – and good English too, with proper diction. “What…. What did you say?” she asked. “You spoke English now. “Wow... great!” Realising his blunder, Amit tried to cover up by explaining that he had picked up the lines from a Hindi film he had seen some time ago. The hero had used the same words for the heroine. Priyanka was not prepared to accept his explanation, the way he had spoken English, it was apparent that he was used to the language. Still, seeing that he was insisting that he did not know English, she finally told him “Just as I learnt to drive, why don’t you learn to speak English? There’s a class near our house offering English-speaking courses. I’ll get you enrolled there.” Not wanting to continue the topic, Amit changed the subject. “Okay. Let’s move on. Your father must be waiting.” Amit took a few photographs of Priyanka at her request and then they stood together and had a few photographs in her camera taken by some foreign tourists who were passing by. They then proceeded to the crest of another hillock, from where the entire town could be seen. On the way, they could see several couples – some sitting, huddled together with their hands on each other’s shoulder or waist, some lying down with their heads on their partners’ laps… one couple were actually embracing and kissing each other, oblivious to their surroundings. Farther off, a man was fondling the breasts of his girl, his hand inside her blouse. Amit felt awkward. Priyanka too, was embarrassed, but slyly looked here and there, enjoying what she was seeing, especially the couple who were locked in a kiss. They reached the top and stopped near the iron railing that protected tourists from the valley below. Priyanka started to climb a small rocky outcropping near-by, about 10-12 feet high. Dressed in sari and sandals, she was not properly equipped for the job. When she reached half-way, she found she was unable to proceed further, nor was she able to climb down. She was wondering what to do when she lost her hold and fell on Amit, who was standing directly below her. Both held to each other and rolled down a few feet, coming to a halt with Amit on top of Priyanka. Neither was hurt, but they remained in that position, savouring the closeness and physical contact, coming to their senses only when a group of revellers passed by, laughing and passing snide remarks at them. They quickly separated and stood up, dusting the sand and leaves from their clothes. After the group had passed, Priyanka smiled and said, “Sorry Amitji. Once again, I troubled you. Now please say ‘It’s my pleasure anybody would have done the same for you.’ I’d like to hear that again.” She laughed. Amit just smiled and said “Come on, let’s go. We’re getting late.” They laughed and began retracing their steps, joining Dr. Mathur and Raghu, who glared at Amit. He was stuck with the old man while the driver had been with the beautiful young girl. Before getting into the car, Amit bought a small wooden stand to hold joss sticks. Pratima would like it, for after her bath, she usually lit a few agarbattis and stuck them into a banana or a potato or even a bar of soap placed at the altar. It would make a nice gift for her. Priyanka kept silent about her fall, not disclosing the event to her father and how Amit had saved her from falling into the valley more than a hundred feet below the rock. When they were returning for Agarta, priyanka was ashamed to see Amitji coming out of servant’s quarters with his baggage. She had recommended the guest room for him to her father. Now she could not ask him in front of Amitji. She decided to take up the issue after she reached home. During the entire journey, priyanka could not look at Amitji directly. She felt let down by her father. Chapter Eighteen TWIN TRAGEDY She died on the spot, without even a shout, run over by the truck. The truck hit a wall and stopped. The driver jumped out and ran away. Passers-by rushed to the spot. Pratima’s body was lying on the pavement in a pool of blood. The bag she had carried lay near her, its contents scattered. One of the men in the crowd recognised her as his son’s teacher and quickly took her lifeless form to the hospital close by, but she was already dead. No doctor in the world could have helped her. With the assistance of a few more good persons, the man who had recognised Pratima, took her body to her house. Nani screamed when she saw Pratima’s body and her bloodied clothes. She fell down unconscious. The shock was too much for her old heart, which stopped beating. It was a truly massive heart attack that took her life. Thus, what began as an accident ended in a double tragedy. Amit returned to the Dr.Mathur’s home around 4 p.m. that day and after parking the car in the garage, proceeded to Nani’s house. When the neighbours saw Amit, they began to gather and followed him at a distance. Not aware of what had happened, Amit called out to Nani and Pratima as soon as he opened the gate. The neighbours, who had been told by Nani that he was a distant relative, followed him in silence. Surprised that there was no answer, not even a sound, Amit called out to both of them again but an eerie silence greeted him. He was on the verge of entering Nani’s room when some of her relatives and neighbours came out crying. They narrated the events of the day to him. Nani and Pratima had both been cremated a couple of hours ago. Amit broke down and started crying uncontrollably. He owed so much to Nani and Pratima. They had been his only family – the people dearest to him. They had taken care of him when he was down in the dumps, with nowhere to go. They had brought him out of his drinking habit and the company of the gypsies. They had given him their love. He too had loved them dearly. It was a miserable scene, Amit, Nani’s relatives and neighbours – all crying loudly, unable to bear their grief. Nani had been liked by one and all for her loving, helpful nature. Now all that was gone. They would never be able to see her again. Gradually, they consoled one another. A few placed their hands on Amit’s back, giving him sympathy and moral support. After some time, they started leaving, one by one. Amit too, wiped his tears, went to his room and packed his belongings in a bag. Coming out of the room, he saw his clothes – that had been washed recently by Pratima, hanging on the line in the courtyard – his trousers, a couple of shirts, banian, socks, kerchiefs and underwear. He collected these too and put them into his bag. Passing by the altar containing the Tulsi plant, he stopped. The image of Pratima, fresh from her bath, flashed through his mind. Taking the small agarbatti stand from his pocket, he placed it with reverence on the altar and wiped his eyes, which had again become wet. With a heavy heart, he opened the gate and stepped out. Chapter Nineteen LOVE LOST AND FOUND Priyanka was crestfallen. Tears sprang to her eyes. Her father noticed it, but thought it was because she had a soft corner for the soft-spoken, well-mannered driver. Little did he know what was happening in her mind. For that matter, nor did Priyanka. Amit had touched the core of her being, where no man had ever been before. After all, she too was a human being and a soft hearted young girl in the prime of her youth. She herself did not know if she was in love with him, but yes, she did like Amit a lot. Returning home from Nani’s place, Priyanka could neither eat nor sleep. At midnight, she took a couple of sleeping pills and spent the night in semi-slumber. She had not realised that she would miss Amit so much. In fact, she missed him every moment, reminiscing their moments together, right from the time she saw him near the Toyota, her driving lessons, his English sentence, his smart appearance in tucked in shirts, their ‘close’ moments at Lonav. How Amit had caught her when she fell off the rock, how he had torn his kerchief to bandage her leg – images of Amit flashed through her restless mind like a kaleidoscope, ever changing but only in more beautiful patterns. She could not concentrate on her work. Concerned about his welfare, even her friends looked all over Agarta for Amit but could not find him. A few days passed. One day, as Priyanka was walking through one of the She went to her cabin and sitting on her chair, wondered where Amit could be. Was he safe? Was he well? Why had he disappeared without telling anybody? She had no answers to her questions. She sighed and picked up a file. As a matter of fact, Priyanka could not have answered if someone had asked if she was in love with Amit. She missed him terribly, but was this called love? All through her life, Priyanka had been a rather shy and reserved person who did not mix easily with people. Somehow, from the first day itself, she had felt attracted to the suave, gentle Amit. Getting close to him was not difficult. She had in fact, never looked at him as a driver, especially with his dignified bearing, elegant appearance and polite behaviour. His care and concern for Priyanka had only increased her feeling for him. Without knowing when, how or why, Priyanka had fallen in love with Amit. There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she called, It was Gobind, the ward boy. “Madam, we have shifted the coma patient from Ward 2 to Ward 4,” he said. “Okay,” replied Priyanka. “I will make the correction in my list.” Gobind turned to go but she called him back. “Where is the patient’s name?” she asked. “The name column is blank here.” “I don’t know madam,” Gobind told her. “Yesterday, he was brought by some people from the country liquor pub. He was drunk and had slipped into a coma. Nobody knows his name.” Priyanka sighed. “Okay, you may go.” Gobind exited, closing the door softly behind him. Priyanka reached for the phone. She called the Ward 4 sister, telling her to leave the coma patient’s case papers on her table. Meanwhile, she would complete her ward rounds. Priyanka stopped by each bed, examining the patient, going through his case sheets and speaking to the patient briefly. She had a kind word and a pat for each patient. While talking to a patient, she stepped back and found her hand touching the hand of the patient in the bed behind her. It was the coma patient. She felt a slight tremor in the patient’s hand. It was a good sign. She continued talking to the patient but just as she was turning to the coma patient, a nurse came running. “Doctor, doctor,” she panted. Priyanka looked at the young nurse’s flushed face. “Madam, Dr. Peter wants you in the operation theatre immediately. There is an emergency case.” Without even looking at his face, Priyanka dropped the coma patient’s hand and hurried towards the operating room. She would attend to the coma patient later. In her cabin the next morning, while going through the case papers of the coma patient, Priyanka was astonished to note that he had a scar on the right side of his forehead. Amit had a scar like that. Could this be Amit? She continued to go through the case sheets, excitement growing in her as she became more and more convinced that this was indeed Amit. She grabbed the papers, rushing towards Ward 4. Meeting Gobind the ward boy on the way, she asked him, “Gobind, in which bed is the coma patient?” “Bed 13, Ward 4, madam,” replied Gobind. Entering Ward 4, Priyanka was shocked to find Bed 13 vacant. Two ward boys were wheeling a dead body completely covered in a white cloth, on a trolley. She broke down and tears streaming down her cheeks, collapsed on the floor. Fortunately, there was a nurse beside her who caught her as she was falling, preventing her from getting hurt. She was immediately taken to a private room and examined by a battery of doctors. As soon as she regained consciousness, she called for Gobind, who came and stood by her side. “Gobind…. the patient on Bed 13… dead body…..” Too overcome with emotion, she could not articulate clearly, but Gobind understood her. “Yes Madam, the 13 number patient died.” Priyanka again blacked out, but could be heard murmuring “… coma patient… Amitji…died… I will never see him again….” Gobind, who was still hovering around, quickly grasped the situation. Bending close to her ear, he said, “Madam, the coma patient is alive and has been shifted to Ward 2 again which I did not know. The patient who was on Bed 13 was another patient – an accident patient who died – he got admitted only last night.” His words immediately revived Priyanka, who sat up on the bed. Taking hold of Gobind’s hand, she told him, “Gobind, take me to the coma patient.” Even as the others stood astonished, she went with Gobind, ignoring their protests and well-meant advice to lie down and rest for a while. Reaching Amit’s bed – for it was indeed Amit – she started weeping again and would have collapsed as well, but for the support of Gobind and the ward nurse. His beard had grown, he had become haggard and weak, but it was certainly her Amitji. There was no mistake about it. Recovering quickly, she arranged to have him shifted from the general ward to a special room. Thereafter, she took personal care of Amit, always by his bedside. She even approached the hospital superintendent for a few days’ leave to take care of Amit but he told her that it would not be necessary as she would be in the hospital anyway. Dr. Mathur was not very happy over Priyanka’s shifting Amit from the general ward to the costlier private room but Priyanka assuaged him by saying she would deduct the amount of the medical bill from his salary. Since Amit did not have to support Nani and Pratima any longer and did not have many expenses, he could easily pay back the sum. She also told her father that with the special care in the private room, Amit would recover quickly and would soon be discharged from the hospital. This was of course, only to put her father at ease, for everyone knew that she would not deduct any money from Amit’s salary. Priyanka requested the specialist doctors of the hospital to see Amit, who responded to the request from their colleague. Amit began to recover. Priyanka’s friends and even her father visited him frequently to enquire about his progress. “So you finally got your Amitji,” Manisha teased her. “Shut up, Manisha, or I’ll beat you, silly,” replied Priyanka in mock anger. Alone with Amit in his hospital room one day, Priyanka became overcharged with emotion. She stroked his hair, touched his cheeks and smiled to herself. Having never been in love before, she looked at Amit – his handsome face, behind which was a sensitive, considerate mind. He was not educated, but was polite and mild-mannered. He possessed everything she had wanted in her man. Amit of course was still in partial coma and could neither feel her touch nor hear her words as she bent down and whispered into his ear, “Amitji, I love you so much. When will you wake up, embrace me and say ‘Priya, I love you too’?” Hearing footsteps, Priyanka quickly straightened herself and sat on the chair near Amit’s bed. She had not heard Manisha, who had been silently standing for some time behind the screen partition separating Amit’s bed from the door. Manisha had heard and seen everything. “Hi! So what’s going on – a bit of romancing?” asked Manisha. Going red in the face, Priyanka answered, “Nonsense. I was just checking his pulse.” “Oh ho! So new medical discoveries are being made, is it? Now we can check pulse even on the patient’s cheeks?” She smiled at Priyanka. “Anyway, how is Amitji?” “Better,” said Priyanka. “In fact, I’m expecting him to come into consciousness any moment.” “Very good news,” nodded Manisha. “I too pray to God that he gets well soon, we get to see some smiles on your face and also to seeing you at parties again, with your Amitji.” The two friends spoke for a while. Manisha then left for her ward rounds. Around 10-30 a.m. the next day, Amit opened his eyes to see Priyanka sitting on a chair beside his bed. She had been sitting there since 6-30 a.m. Seeing him looking around in surprise, Priyanka told him softly, “Don’t move or talk. You are weak. You need rest.” Later, Priyanka consulted other doctors treating Amit and then spoke to the superintendent. “Sir, I would like to take him home. Can I?” “No problem” he replied. “Give him some light, liquid feeds and keep him under observation till evening. If he responds well, you can take him in the evening.” Calling him aside, Priyanka asked him, “Sir, can you please make the bill in my name? I will pay all his expenses.” “No problem,” said the superintendent. “Money is not the issue. Tell, to get his discharge formalities done and prepare the discharge card. The superintendent thought Amit being close to Dr. Priyanka, he would waive the medical expenses but Priyanka objected to it and made it clear that she would pay Amitji’s bills. She did not want free treatment for Amitji. Chapter Twenty MURKY MEMORIES Walking out of Nani’s house, he was walking aimlessly, not knowing where to go or what to do, lost in deep thought. Coming across a country liquor bar, he had gone inside. He drank heavily, his mind a whirl. Images of Nani and Pratima flashed through his mind. He remembered Nani’s kindness on the train, her insisting on taking him to her home, the love and care that she lavished on him during all the days he was jobless, her illness, her helping nature…. Tears came to his eyes. He also remembered the simple but charming Pratima, the time he had seen her semi-nude in the bathroom, the trouble she and Nani had taken to bring him from the clutches of the gypsy band, the special things Pratima used to do to make him happy….So many little events and incidents that had made his life colourful and happy. He sighed. He would never see those days again. Nani and Pratima were dead, gone forever. They would never come back… He filled his glass again, with shaking hands. The owner of the pub, who had been watching Amit closely, came to his table. This was not one of his regular clients. He was also well dressed, not the riff-raff who usually frequented his pub. This man looked decent and elegant. Very politely, he told Amit not to have any more, as he had already had too much to drink. He felt sorry for the sad faced Amit, who seemed intent on drowning his sorrow in liquor. “Sir, you don’t know what I have lost. I lost everything in life and when I was beginning to think that I had at last found something to live for, I lost everything again. I’m now totally alone. Please let me have one last bottle,” Amit told the owner. With a shake of his head and a sigh, the owner went back to his counter and gestured to the waiter, who placed another bottle on Amit’s table. Chapter Twenty One FUNNY FOREST RANGER “…was so addicted to booze that he was drunk most of the time, even on duty. Ultimately, he was suspended many times and was never promoted because of his drinking problem but that did not stop him from drinking. He was short of money, so instead of plush bars and restaurants and foreign liquor, he started going to country liquor pubs. He even comes here at times, but always sits upstairs. After a few pegs, he would go to the terrace and shout ‘Suicide… suicide,’ but everyone knew he would not jump so nobody took any notice. At first, the bar owner used to get alarmed and would rush to stop him but when he came to know that this was only a drunken drama, even he stopped bothering. “Chana was a big source of entertainment to others in the bar and to the shopkeepers near-by and their customers, who all used to laugh at the forest ranger. One day however, Chana really jumped down, or maybe he lost his balance and fell down – nobody knows for sure. I was there, but I did not go to see him, though I could hear noises of the crowd that had gathered. Soon, I heard the siren of an ambulance, but I thought it was too late. He could not have survived the fall…. “I finished my drink and started to go home. As I was coming down the stairs, I was astonished to see Chana staggering up the stairs. He was drunk as hell and did not know whether he was going up or down. ‘Ranger sahib…. You, here?’ I stammered, not sure whether he was real or a ghost. You see, I too had downed a few pegs…. “The forest ranger looked up at me. ‘I’m great,’ he said. ‘Nothing happened to me. I fell on two customers standing on the street. The ambulance came and took them to the hospital. I feel sorry for them, poor fellows, but let me finish my quota.’ He continued up the stairs while I stared at him with my mouth open….” The three friends laughed loudly, slapping one another’s backs. Suddenly, they heard the sound of someone falling. This was not Chana, nor was it a joke. Someone had really fallen down. It was Amit, who had fallen from his chair on the ground and had become unconscious. They tried to revive him with the help of the pub owner but he had slipped into a coma. They took him to the hospital and then the doctors had taken over… Chapter Twenty Two LOVING AND LEARNING Priyanka could have taken him by car but preferred an ambulance so that he could rest in comfort during the short journey. Amit was allotted the well-furnished guest rooms. Within a week, he was back to his normal health, thank to Priyanka’s loving care. He started working again, but now he had two jobs. He not only worked as Priyanka’s driver but also began to assist her at her clinic, talking to patients and looking after the reception duties. Priyanka had increased his salary from Rs.3000 to Rs. 5000 per month, in spite of his vehement protests and pleading that he had practically no expenses as even his boarding and lodging were free. A mere Rs. 500 per month would have sufficed him for his pocket expenses. Priyanka however, was adamant and Amit had to accede to her wish. Priyanka trained Amit for his new job, which included explaining her prescriptions to patients. She showed him a few samples. “This is called a prescription, Amitji. It is a list of the medicines I have recommended for the patient. It indicates the dosage – see, 1-1-1 means one tablet or dose thrice a day, 1-0-1 means only two doses, one in the morning and one at night. Sometimes, I also write 1 HS, which means one dose to be taken just before sleep….” She continued to teach him the intricacies of prescriptions. “On the right hand bottom, I usually write a figure inside a circle. This indicates the number of days the patient has to take the medicines. Also, if I write a medicine and write SOS after it, the patient has to take the medicine only as and when required. Don’t bother about the names of medicines. You will not understand them. Just explain the dosage and tell them not to stop medicines or change the dosage without asking me first. Understood?” Amit nodded his head and said: “Yes, madam.” “You are smart and intelligent,” Priyanka told him. “You will pick up quickly.” Then she asked, “By the way, what about your spoken English class?” Amit was reluctant to give his consent. He replied, “I will learn it slowly from you.” Priyanka would however have nothing of this. “No hanky-panky,” she admonished him. “You must learn it properly, if you are so shy you will not learn anything. People can keep learning throughout their lives”. She continued, “Moreover, you have passed Std. X and still do not know English. Therefore, you must learn it. Okay?” A few days later, she really got him admitted in the spoken English classes. He had no option. He had to attend the classes or reveal his identity. The lady teacher greeted him and said, “Sir, are you the new English grammar teacher?” Amit was embarrassed and he did not reply, looking down as he entered the classroom and sat on one of the benches. This was perhaps the most torturous moment in his entire life. The lady teacher was around 30 years old. She understood that he was one of the students. In her mind, she was thinking how to manage the big boy who was almost her father’s age, but somehow things went off well. Amit, his classmates and the lady teacher all quickly adjusted themselves to one another. All the students were from non-English medium schools and very poor in English. The lessons started with basic grammar – present tense, past tense and future tense. Amit got bored in the one-hour class. He had to write down all the class work unwillingly in his notebook because Priyanka checked his notebook everyday after he returned from the class. She also taught him English for half an hour after the clinic was closed. One day, the principal of the spoken English class, a Sikh gentleman, came to the class to check the progress made by the students. He went to the blackboard and asked everybody to make one complete sentence and tell him. Around 12% students correctly answered including Amit. Actually, Amit could have very easily been a better teacher than the principal, but he had to stick to appearances and pretend he was very poor in English. Amit however enjoyed Priyanka’s teaching. Whenever she could spare time, she would teach him small sentences, like “I go---you go---he goes.” Though he pretended to learn, he liked being in her company. One day, Amit decided to have some fun with her. He told her that she had made a mistake. Priyanka immediately asked him to show her where she had committed the mistake. Then Amit pointed out that she had said, “I go---you go---he goes,” whereas everything should be rhythmic and systematic. Everything should be either ‘go or ‘goes’ as ‘go’ and ‘goes’ did not match. It should have been “I go---you go---he go” and not he goes. Priyanka laughed and said “English is a strange language. You have to learn it the way it is. There is no alternative.” Amit scratched his head and said, “Okay, but this is enough for today.” He smiled. Another day, Amit told Priyanka that he had seen two ‘mouses.’ Priyanka corrected him. “Amitji, the plural of mouse is not ‘mouses’ but mice. Where did you see the mice?” “In the hice.” Hiding a smile, Amit replied. Priyanka: “What?” Amit: “If the plural of mouse is mice then the plural of house is hice!” Priyanka rolled her eyes in exasperation, but could not help laughing. Amit started his work at Priyanka’s clinic, explaining her prescriptions to patients but at the same time, ensuring that the medicines she prescribed were correct. He could not disclose that he too was a doctor, so conversed with the patients in a low voice, asking them about their symptoms. At times, he noticed that she prescribed medicines that would take a longer time to have effect. Other medicines would have cured the patients with a much lesser dosage and in quicker time, but he chose to ignore such incidences as long as the general line of treatment was appropriate. Patients too, found it easier to speak to the soft-spoken compounder. Most of them were poor and illiterate and he would take pains to explain the disease to them and the effect of the medicines prescribed. Though these conversations between him and the patients were carried out outside Priyanka’s cabin, she could hear him indistinctly due to the round hole cut on the top half of her cabin door, and could also see a blurred image of him through the translucent glass of the door. She noticed that he was becoming popular with her patients and was taking his job seriously. She was pleased at this development. Chapter Twenty Three TEACHING THE TEACHER He was wondering how to do this and save Priyanka from landing into trouble. Priyanka meanwhile, had observed that Amit was taking a long time with the patient. She saw him get up from his chair and hesitantly approach her cabin. “Yes doctor, any problem?” she jokingly asked Amit. “Ma’am…” began Amit, but she cut him short. “Priyanka. My name is Priyanka Mathur, not ‘madam’. Don’t address me ‘Ma’am’ henceforth. Now what is it?” “Actually, the patient was asking me if you could prescribe tablets instead of syrup for his LOOSE MOTIONS….” Amit purposely stressed the last two words to make her see her mistake, while holding out the prescription to her. Ignoring the proffered prescription sheet, Priyanka told him, “No way. Tell the patient he has to take the syrup only. Okay?” Disappointed, Amit dragged himself back to his chair. The patient was getting a bit impatient. “Sir, please explain the prescription, I have to go.” “Go? Go where? Up?” was Amit’s response, for he did not want the patient to suffer, maybe even risk his life, nor did he want Priyanka to get into trouble because of her error. Telling the patient to wait a while, he again entered Priyanka’s cabin. “Now what, Amitji…” asked Priyanka with a big smile. She liked what she was seeing. Amit was thinking something very seriously, almost like a senior doctor. Enjoying his seriousness, she thought he was trying to probably read and understand her prescription, though she had told him not to, as it would be beyond him. Still, she thought he probably wanted to learn more, and felt she should help him, so patiently waited for him to go on. “Sorry, but somehow I feel uncomfortable – maybe it is just a hunch or my intuition, but could you examine the patient once again? Please?” Priyanka had decided to humour him. “Okay, send the patient in again,” she said. “I will re-examine him.” Relieved, Amit said, “Thank you ma’am.” “Again ‘ma’am’?” Priyanka chided him playfully. Do you want me to re-examine him or not?” “Okay, doc,” said Amit, as Priyanka smiled at his discomfiture. It was no longer boring to sit at the clinic as it used to be, when she was alone. The love of her life, Amit, was with her. As long as he was around, she would never feel bored. “You are getting smarter and more modern by the day,” she laughed. “Calling a doctor ‘doc,’ are you?” They both laughed. Amit then summoned the patient again, standing by his side in front of Priyanka, who asked the patient: “Okay, tell me again what your problem is.” Seizing the opportunity, Amit silently handed over the prescription she had written back to her. Looking at what she had written, she immediately realized her blunder. She was shocked and embarrassed at what she had done. But for Amit’s ‘hunch’, ‘intuition’ or whatever, she would have put the patient’s life at risk and would have been in serious trouble. She started growing red in the face. Seeing that she had realised her mistake, Amit quickly ushered the patient outside while Priyanka wrote out a fresh prescription. She tore her old prescription into small bits and threw them into the waste paper basket. She then came out and handed the new prescription to Amit with a look of gratitude and a brief “Thanks.” She went in again, but her ears were tuned to what Amit was telling the patient. “You will be perfectly all right by tomorrow,” Amit spoke to the patient, “but start taking the medicines today itself.” “Sir, was the earlier prescription wrong?” The patient obviously had a doubt. “Not at all,” said Amit calmly. “What gave you the idea? Actually, madam had prescribed a low cost medicine, thinking you would not be able to afford a costlier medicine. I told her that you would be losing your wages for the days you did not go to work and that you needed to start working at least by day after tomorrow. So she changed the medicine to something that will cost a little more, but will set you right by the end of tomorrow. It will cost you around Rs. 80. Is that all right?” Listening to the conversation between Amit and the patient, Priyanka was amazed. Firstly, Amit had somehow found out that she had prescribed the wrong medicine. Then he had known and assured the patient that he would become well the next day. Thirdly, he knew the price of the medicine. Who was Amitji? “Amitji, how do you like working at the clinic?” she asked. “Very much,” Amit replied honestly. “Well, you always take personal care of all my patients, explain the prescription to them very nicely and assure them that they would get well. You should have been a doctor, Amitji.” Priyanka was baiting him, waiting for an answer. “Do you really think so?” Amit asked, smiling to himself. “Thank you for your kind words.” Amit did not say anything further, much to Priyanka’s disappointment. The next day, Amit accidentally came across the patient whose medicines were changed due to his intervention. Seeing Amit, the patient came running to him. He told him that he had not been able to procure the medicine prescribed by the doctor. He folded his hands and begged Amit to help him as his suffering had increased. Taking a paper from his pocket, Amit asked the patient to bend down a little. Placing the paper on the patient’s back, he wrote two alternative medicines and gave the paper to the patient, explaining that the doctor madam had already told him the names of alternative medicines, as she was not sure he would be able to get the prescribed medicine, as it was not easily available. Before the patient could ask anything, Amit quickly walked away. In his concern for the patient’s suffering, Amit had recommended the medicine without thinking of the consequences. Late at night, he thought what would happen if Priyanka came to know that he had written a prescription for a patient. He considered the various possibilities but was sure the patient would never come back again because with his medicine, the patient was certain to be cured. Even if he came after 6 months for some other illness, he would not bring his old prescriptions. The poor usually did not preserve their medical records properly. Thinking that if at all the matter came up again, he would find some other excuses, he consoled himself. Chapter Twenty Four COMING CLOSER He immediately ran back and reported the matter to Priyanka, who went to see him at once. She found that he was indeed running a high fever. Checking his temperature, she found to her shock that it was above 103 degrees Fahrenheit. She immediately called for a specialist. Amit woke up to see Priyanka, the watchman and another man – the specialist – next to his bed. He was surprised and embarrassed. He tried to sit up but the stranger placed his hand on his chest and pushed him back. “Lie down,” he said. “I’m a doctor. I will give you an injection now and you will soon be all right.” Amit gave him a blank smile but while the doctor was filling the syringe, tried to read the name of the medicine. “Am I the doctor or are you?” asked the doctor. “Come on, roll up your sleeve.” Before he could say anything, Priyanka had rolled his sleeve up but even as the doctor was giving him the injection, Amit was still trying to find out the name of the medicine, his eyes only on the injection box. A few days passed by. Looking for a clean shirt to wear, Amit discovered to his chagrin that all his shirts were exuding a foul smell, particularly at the armpits, obviously due to the unwashed sweat. Pinching his nostril between his thumb and forefinger, he pulled out a shirt from its hangar. Putting some detergent in a mug and pouring some water into it, he came out on the veranda, spread out the shirt on the clothesline, securing it with clips. He then proceeded to apply detergent solution in and around the armpits of the shirt, later washing the detergent off with plain water. Watching his efforts from the balcony, Priyanka started laughing loudly. Looking up at her, Amit became embarrassed. Priyanka came down and asked him, “Why only the armpits?” Amit hung his head in shame. “Actually, I don’t have a clean shirt to wear. Nothing is left and I have to go out now,” he said apologetically. “No problem,” said Priyanka. Give me all your shirts and trousers – those that need washing. It will take only ten minutes in the washing machine.” “No, no,” protested Amit, appalled at the idea. How could he even think of giving her the shirt – forget about the other clothes – for washing? Brushing his protests aside, Priyanka snatched the shirt from him and went back to the bungalow, even as Amit was telling her, “Please madam, give it back to me. At least, please do not get it wet. I have to leave soon. If you have some perfume, please spray some on the armpits. I will wash the shirt later. I will wash all my clothes….” But she had already disappeared into her house. In next to no time, she was back with the shirt, freshly washed and ironed. She had put the shirt into the washing machine, dried it on the drier and then ironed it. She could have had the job done by her maid but wanted to do it herself. Much embarrassed, Amit accepted the shirt with a shy “You unnecessarily took the trouble. Anyway, thank you very much.” “by the way, may I know where are you going” priyanka said. “just for an evening walk, I don’t have another clinic to go”. He went in, put the shirt on and went out. Watching him leave from her balcony, Priyanka felt a strong urge to wave out to him but controlled herself. Smiling to herself, she turned and went into her room. Chapter Twenty Five FUN AND FROLIC Priyanka had planned to leave around 9 p.m. for the party. When she came out, she saw that Amit was ready, strolling near the car, which was out of the garage and ready to start, its front end pointed towards the gate. He was dressed in his favourite white trousers, dark blue shirt, black shoes and matching belt. Seeing him spruced and shining, Priyanka was pleasantly surprised. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “Is this the same Amitji or some other handsome man? Could it be a film star?” she teased him. Amit did not reply, gesturing her into the car with a smile. They reached the party around 9-45 p.m. It was a party for the elite. The trees bordering the lawns were festooned with multi-coloured lights. The dance floor in the hall within was lavishly decorated with buntings, streamers and balloons. Though not many had arrived, people were slowly coming in and mixing around merrily. Smartly dressed waiters were weaving among the guests, bearing trays of drinks and delicacies. The fragrance of costly perfumes hung in the air. The bright moonlight competed with the electric lamps. A DJ with long hair had set up his equipment in a corner and was testing the sound quality and the volume. It was indeed a grand affair, befitting the cream of high society, who had all gathered to celebrate another New Year. All were dressed in their best, the women in sparkling, sometimes revealing clothes. Priyanka was soon swallowed up by a crowd of friends and admirers who whisked her away into the hall. Not knowing what to do, Amit loitered in the passage between the lawn and the hall. Waiters were passing back and forth, laden with trays full of food and drink – only the best, for the people on the top rungs of the social ladder. Amit watched, inwardly smiling. Many years ago, he too had been to such parties… He had been the life of all the parties, flitting with boundless energy among the crowd, flirting with a pretty girl, cracking a joke here, greeting someone, smiling at a known face, complimenting a beautiful tie or dress, a kind word and enquiry on meeting one his patients…. Ah, those were the days! He was right on top of the social ladder. He was known to all and had been a popular personality who automatically charmed people and drew attention to him. Here, he was known only as Priyanka’s driver, that too, by only a few people. Amit snapped out of his reverie when one of the waiters who knew him a bit, offered him a drink from his tray. “Amit bhai,” he said. “Take a drink and enjoy. Amit would have loved to have a drink, but was conscious of his role and the situation. He could have been the main attraction of the party, zipping from one small group to another, infusing everyone with his enthusiasm and zest. Now, he was just a driver, though Priyanka never treated him like one, nor did she tolerate it when others did so. He was always “Amitji” to her. He recollected how she had walked out of one of her friends’ party when she came to know that Amit had been hurt by the disrespectful behaviour of the host. He would keep to himself here and not create another scene. He went back to his old days… Again and again, like an iron needle drawn to a magnet, his mind would go back to the death of the boy Ankit and his subsequent suspension and the ignominy of the whole affair. He was of course unaware of his exoneration and reinstatement by the Medical Board. He was still wondering why he had been put into such a shameful situation. The operation had been quite successful…. The same waiter who had offered Amit a drink, passed by with another tray of glasses with liquor. Looking at the amber liquid in the glasses, Amit impulsively called the waiter. Picking up a glass of whisky, he tossed the contents of the glass into his throat, gulping the fiery fluid raw, without adding soda or water. He could feel the heat of the liquor as it burned through his gullet down to his stomach. Feeling relaxed and at ease after a few minutes, he had another large peg of whisky. This time however, he mixed it with soda, sipping his drink and enjoying it slowly. He gave the waiter money to buy him a packet of cigarettes. Within the hour, he had not only downed two large pegs but was also on his third. Relaxed, he took a deep drag on his cigarette, lazily blowing a ring of smoke. Observing him from within the hall, Priyanka was surprised to see him with a drink in his hand and a cigarette too. She came out and asked him, “Amitji, are you all right?” “I’m fine, Priya,” Amit replied with a smile. For Priyanka, this was a new one. He had never called anything but ‘madam,’ ‘ma’am’ or ‘doctor.’ She was confused hearing him call her ‘Priya,’ but she liked it all the same. Manisha joined them at that moment. Seeing Amit smartly dressed, she let out a wolf whistle and said, “Well, well! Is it the same Amitji…. I mean, the great Mr. Amit Ray?” Having imbibed a few drinks herself, Manisha was in high spirits. She laughingly told Priyanka, “Priya, you go in and enjoy the party. Now I have a drinking companion... I can enjoy the night with Amitji.” “Shut up, Manisha,” Priyanka told her. “You know he never drinks.” Manisha, Amit and Priyanka sat on a swing on the lawn. Manisha was sitting in the middle, with Amit and Priyanka on either side. Manisha looked at Amit and said, “I never knew you took liquor, nor did Priyanka ever tell me.” Amit replied, “I love drink.” Manisha pointed her finger at Amit and said, “Love! Wow! What a beautiful word! I love it!” They laughed together and continued chatting, in a small world of their own, oblivious to the noise of the party and the loud music, which all but drowned their words. A waiter approached them with a tray of drinks. Manisha was about to pick up two glasses for herself and Amit but Priyanka objected. Amit then told her he was very happy that day, so could he have just one more? Priyanka relented. Within the blink of an eyelid, Manisha had picked up two glasses. Handing one to Amit, she raised her glass and said, “Cheers!” They continued talking and laughing. Suddenly, Manisha noticed that she was sitting next to Amit and Priyanka was farthest to him. She smiled at Priyanka and told her, “Sorry, Priya, for having taken your seat. Come over and sit close to your Amitji.” All Priyanka could say in reply was, “Shut up, Manisha. I will kill you.” After some time, Manisha suggested that they should get out of the noise of the party and sit inside the Toyota. It would be more private, quieter and less chilly too, for it was quite cold now on the lawn and the dew had started falling. They went into the parking lot and sat inside the cosy comfort of the Toyota. On their way, Manisha had told a passing waiter to make a round every 15 minutes to the car, with drinks and snacks. After a while, when the waiter came with some snacks and fresh drinks, he was dumbstruck to see Amit sitting and drinking with the two girls. His eyes grew large and his jaw dropped. Priyanka asked, “Amitji, after so much of drink, will you be able to drive?” Before Amit could reply, Manisha interjected, “Don’t worry, I will drop you both. Relax and enjoy the night.” Priyanka was not satisfied with the words of her friend. She told her, “Shut up Manisha. I’m concerned about his health.” Hearing this, Amit said, “Don’t worry. I drive better after drinking,” and added, “Do you know, I cannot operate without my drink. My assistants take me to the theatre but once there, I’m rock steady. He extended his fingers and kissed them.” Surprised and not knowing what to make out of his words, Manisha and Priyanka looked at each other. They could not understand Amit but kept quiet, trying to rationalise his words. Perhaps by ‘operation,’ he had meant driving the car or even mending it. His assistants would then probably be the mechanics and cleaners. ‘Theatre’ of course could only be the cinema or drama theatre. How could they know that Amit was indeed referring to the operation theatre and was thinking of his surgical assistants Dr. Sawant and Dr. Rathod? Amit was seated on the front seat while Priyanka and Manisha occupied the rear seat. A paper plate containing some crispies was placed between them on the seat, above an old newspaper, to prevent the seat from getting soiled. Manisha said: “Hey Priya! At least here you can go and sit in the front with your Amitji!” “Shut up Manisha,” said Priyanka as usual. “I’ll kill you.” She was unable to become angry with her dear friend, who had done so much for her. Manisha too, liked Amit and wished that Priyanka and Amit should strengthen their relations and forge a permanent bond. She wanted to see Amit and Priyanka happy together. They spent some more time in the car and then returned to their respective homes after dinner. On the drive back, Priyanka sat in the front with Amit. Becoming emotional under the influence of alcohol, Amit leaned over and kissed Priyanka on the cheek. Though unprepared for his bold move, Priyanka nevertheless enjoyed the warm touch of his lips. In return, she embraced Amit tightly, her hands on his back, drawing him closer to her. Reaching the bungalow, both came out of the car. Priyanka gave Amit a tight hug to show her love for him. Amit looked at her. “You know Priya, you are a very beautiful and nice girl. I like you very much,” he said. Priyanka could not sleep the whole night, re-living the kiss Amit gave her, her own reciprocating embrace and his words “....Priya, you are a very beautiful and nice girl. I like you very much...” Except for Manisha and her parents, nobody had ever called her ‘Priya.’ She was amused that Amit had “liked” her very much. Maybe he had wanted to say, “I love you very much,” but due to drinks and shyness, had said “like” instead of “love.” Or he could also like and love her at the same time. In a pleasant state of confusion, Priyanka spent the night half-asleep and half-awake. Chapter Twenty Six MERRY MOMENTS Those who did not know that Amit was a driver, presumed they were a couple. Even those who knew that Amit was a driver, began to accept them as a couple, awaiting the announcement of their marriage. There were a few who were jealous of their closeness and passed disparaging and snide remarks but this did not bother Priyanka nor affect her relationship with Amit. Dropping Priyanka at the hospital one day, Amit told her to take the afternoon off. He had bought two tickets for the 3 to 6 show of ‘Titanic.’ Amit was at the hospital at 2 p.m. itself but Priyanka was ready and waiting for him at the gate. After a quick bite on the way, they entered the theatre and took their seats. Priyanka and Amit were totally engrossed in the picture. Priyanka identified herself with the heroine Rose, who was from a rich family while her lover Jack was poor, like Amit. Yet their love was so strong that they endured all the insults and taunts of the family members of Rose. In spite of their numerous efforts to separate them, their love had lasted until death. In the final scene, Jack was drowned and Rose could not even call out for help as her voice had frozen in the cold. She finally managed to grab a whistle from a dead body floating near by and summoned her rescuers by blowing it. Priyanka was so touched by the scene that she started crying loudly in the theatre itself, attracting everyone’s attention to her. It was an embarrassing situation and Amit had a tough time pacifying her and explaining that it was only a movie. When he finally managed to control her loud bawling to soft sobs, he told her, “See Priya, this is only a picture. The entire audience is looking at us. Control yourself please.” Amidst sobs, Priyanka replied, “Let anybody look. So what? But promise me that we shall never be separated.” “All right baba,” Amit told her. “We will not be separated. Now you too, promise something.” “What,” she asked. “Promise me that you will not see this movie again unless you can control your emotions and not cry in the theatre.” Wiping her tears, Priyanka smiled at him and playfully punched him on the arm. Coming out of the theatre, they went shopping. Priyanka bought a suit – complete with trousers, tie, shirt, jacket and coat – for Amit, brushing aside his protests. She also bought an electric razor, shaving cream and a cologne mist spray. She knew he loved perfumes. For herself, all she bought were a few handkerchiefs. Carrying the purchased items, Amit went ahead to keep them in the car while Priyanka followed him a short way behind. A roadside Romeo, struck by Priyanka’s youth and beauty, came behind her casually and fell against her as if he had lost his balance, pinching her luscious bottom in the process. Furious but afraid to express it, Priyanka was looking at the rogue, trembling with indignation and rage. Before she could do anything, Amit was beside her in a flash. He had seen everything. Catching the rascal by the throat, he gave him a series of hard slaps, even as the man was struggling to free himself from Amit’s grip. Priyanka stood rooted to the spot, stunned by Amit’s heroics. A crowd had started gathering and knowing that people were only waiting to get their hands on him, the rogue was trying his best to escape. He did not want a public beating. Amit released the vagabond with a stern warning, at the same time asking people around to spare him as he had learnt his lesson. They got into the car and drove away, towards their favourite restaurant. On the way, Priyanka turned to Amit and said, “Wow! I didn’t know you could also fight.” Amit laughed at her. “You don’t know me,” he said. “In my college days, I was a regular ‘dada’ – a hooligan.” His mind immediately raced back to his college times and the day Mita had ditched him. It was Saraswati Pooja day and Amit and his friends had been busy decorating the idol of the Goddess and the mandap till beyond midnight. After they had finished, one of his friends called Amit and the others. “Come with me,” he said, but would not say where he was taking them. The group reached Mita’s house and before Amit could say anything, started shouting for Mita. “Mita, you don’t know us,” they shouted. “We are dangerous men. You have deceived our innocent friend Amit. We will see how cheaters like you continue to live in this city. We will kidnap you from the college...” It was of course a joke, but Mita’s family had been terrified. They took the boys’ words seriously, not realising that it was all a prank. They thought Amit too was a hooligan and wanted Mita to avoid going to college – at least for a few days, but Mita knew Amit well. He would never harm her. She pooh-poohed her parents’ fears and went to college as usual. However, from that night, Amit was always considered a hooligan by Mita’s family members. They refused to believe that neither Amit nor his friends were hooligans. Amit smiled. His friends were not hooligans, but they would also not shy away from a fight. He remembered a few incidents when they had picked up a quarrel with a rival group... but it had all been good fun. “What are you thinking?” asked Priyanka, bringing him from the past to the present. “Nothing,” Amit smiled at her. “Just a few pleasant college memories.” They had dinner at the restaurant and reached home at 10 p.m. Chapter Twenty Seven A GREAT GIFT Priyanka introduced Amit to her companion as Amit Ray, her “friend, philosopher and guide.” Amit and the lady exchanged greetings, by joining their palms in the typical Indian tradition of ‘namaste.’ Noticing the lady’s ring, Priyanka touched it and said “Wow! What a beautiful ring!” The lady smiled shyly and said, “It is a real diamond. My boy friend presented it to me.” She nodded in the affirmative when Priyanka asked her if it was an engagement ring. After some time, they parted. After reaching home, Amit started pacing his room disturbed. ‘Priyanka has given me so many things, he thought. ‘What have I given her in return? Nothing.’ He then decided he would give her a diamond ring just like the one the lady doctor had worn, or even something better than that. But did he have enough money? He went to his bank the next day and found he had a balance of Rs. 1,10,000 in his account. Leaving the mandatory minimum balance of Rs. 1000, he withdrew the rest and went straight to the jeweller’s shop. He saw several rings. He did not know which would fit Priyanka’s finger but made a quick guess. After all, he had seen and held her hands so many times. Liking a particular ring, he asked the shopkeeper how much it cost. When the shopkeeper told him “2.5 lacks,” Amit was crestfallen. He placed the ring on the counter. A few years ago, Rs. 2.5 lacks would have been a minor sum. Things were different today. He then told the shopkeeper to show him ring within his budget of Rs. 1,09,000. Amit saw about ten rings. He selected one, paid for it and put the box in his pocket. He would give it to Priyanka at the right moment. The right moment came a week later. They had planned for another movie and dinner at a restaurant after the picture. The restaurant was quiet, without many customers. They sat at a secluded table. They ordered food. Amit wondered how to start. He got an idea and told Priyanka, “Show me your left hand.” “Why?” asked Priyanka. “Show me,” Amit insisted. “I want to read your future.” Saying, “Wow! You know palmistry too,” Priyanka extended her left hand to him over the table. “You have a beautiful life line...and... also a beautiful love line” said Amit. “You will soon get married to a prince who is 28 and get eleven children...and you can launch a cricket team.” “Rubbish,” Priyanka laughed. “You are no palmist. You are a fraud.” She wagged her finger at him. “I will not pay you a single rupee for such predictions. If you can really read palms, tell me about myself.” Priyanka again offered her hand to him. “Hmm... you are a beautiful girl. You are also rich. You belong to the Mathur family. Hmm... the other lines are not very clear. I will have to get my magnifying glass... Maybe... maybe you are also a doctor, right?” Both laughed at his play-acting. Amit took Priyanka’s left hand again and very quickly slipped the ring on her finger. Priyanka was amazed and very happy. “It is beautiful,” she said, turning her hand to admire it from all angles. She did not think it was a diamond ring. Still, even if the stone sparkling in the centre was artificial, the ring itself was gold. It would have still cost a lot of money. She was reluctant to accept it but did not want to be negative. It was a gift of love. She got up from her chair, went to him, gave him a hug, and kissed his cheek. “So this is my engagement ring from you,” she said. “I will wait for the day.” She was very happy and watching her happiness, Amit too was happy. Priyanka showed the ring to Manisha in the hospital the next day. “Wow!” was Manisha’s reaction, though she felt it was the same ring she had wanted to purchase a week ago but gave up the idea when she found out that its price was beyond her budget. “You bought it from Indian Jewellery house, isn’t it?” she asked and added a note of caution. “Don’t wear it every day, or the hooligans will be after you. They may even kill you for this ring.” Observing her friend’s puzzled look, she explained: “My dear, innocent, ignorant, simple friend, I know you are very rich but you should not be wearing costly jewellery to work, or even every day. There is a word called safety, you know....” Agreeing with Manisha and promising to take care, Priyanka left, but now she was intrigued. Was this ring really so costly? Taking permission from the superintendent to go out for a couple of hours, she went straight to Indian jewellery house, the shop mentioned by Manisha. It was a well-known shop. So was Priyanka, as a doctor and as the only daughter of the rich Dr. Mathur. She was welcomed effusively. After all, Agarta was not a very big city and almost everyone knew the Mathurs. “How can I help you, Priyankaji?” the shopkeeper asked. Priyanka showed him the ring. “Was this ring purchased from your shop?” she asked. “Yes, madam,” replied the man, looking at the ring. “A few days ago, a gentleman came to buy it. I clearly remember, because the ring cost Rs. 1,10,000 but he said he had only Rs. 1,09,000 with him. We did not want to lose the customer, so we showed a cash discount of Rs. 1000 and sold him the ring. Was it for you? Do you like the ring? It suits your finger...” Even as he was speaking, Priyanka thanked him and quickly got into the waiting taxi. She did not want the jeweller to see her eyes getting wet. Why did Amit have to buy such a costly ring? She was touched. Normally, the bank manager would not have disclosed information about some other person’s account but Dr. Priyanka and her father were VIP customers and she was only seeking information of her driver’s account, so he showed her the transaction on the computer screen on his desk. It was clear that Amit had withdrawn everything except the required minimum balance of Rs.1000. Suddenly, it flashed across her mind that she had appreciated her friend’s ring in front of Amit after the seminar. She checked the dates. Amit had withdrawn the money the day after the seminar. So that was why he had bought her such a costly ring. She thanked the manager and got into the taxi. Inside the privacy of the vehicle, she broke down and sobbed her heart out, for it was obvious that Amit loved her so much that he did not care about his own welfare. By the time she reached the hospital, she had calmed down and removed all the traces of her recent emotional outburst. Amit would be coming soon, with her lunch. How should she ask him about it? Should she say she had lost it somewhere in the hospital? Should she tell him that she needed money urgently so she had sold it for Rs. 5000? How would he react? No, that would be too cruel a trick to play on her beloved Amit, who had put it on her finger with his own hands. He had bought it for her when he could not afford it. It was an expression of his love for her. She swore to herself that she would never remove the ring from her finger. Chapter Twenty Eight THE FRUSTRATED FATHER When Priyanka came home, she saw her father worried and tense. He was pacing the balcony, a pensive frown on his face. He was actually going through the various incidents that had made him decide that Amit should be removed from service. Firstly, though Priyanka always sat on the rear seat of the car when she left home, she was seated by the side of the driver when she reached the hospital. She must have changed places after leaving the bungalow. One day, he caught them laughing together. Amit was not answering some question she had asked, so she had started tickling him on the stomach. He had seen her in a romantic mood with Amit one day, when there were no patients at her clinic. He had also noticed that she spent a long time in his room, quite often. He had objected to her going to the New Year party but she had said all her friends were expecting her and would be waiting for her. She could not let them down. Then he had tried telling her not to take Amit with her. He would drop her and bring her back. She had flatly refused the offer, telling him that all her friends would laugh at her for making her father do the work of a driver, especially when she had her own driver. She said they would bombard her with a thousand questions, which she would be unable to reply. The whole party would become a big, unpleasant mess. Finally, she had had her way. Dr. Mathur had kept awake that night, though he had switched off his room lights. He had seen them hugging and romancing before she came into the bungalow and Amit went to his guest quarters. Priyanka was not aware that her father was awake and watching her. It was well past midnight and his room was dark. Much disturbed over these developments, Dr. Mathur thought sacking Amit would be the best solution. He knew it would not be easy, but he had to do it. After all, he was her father and was responsible for her welfare. When he politely told his daughter, she was taken aback and rose to defend Amit strongly. She said he was not a driver alone but helped her in the clinic and also ran several errands for Dr. Mathur as well. He was well mannered and polite, besides being a good driver. He may be poor and uneducated but was sincere, honest and hard working. He never complained, nor did he ask for a raise. Where would they find another person like him? Without him, who would drive the Toyota, she asked her father. The car would lie unused and rust. He had become a part of her life and she could not think of living without him. Dr. Mathur tried to argue with her but had no reply when she finally told him: “I am incomplete without Amitji.” Dr. Mathur had backed off. He had had other altercations with his daughter and knew how stubborn and adamant she could be. Could he do something else – maybe make her hate Amit by showing him to be a greedy, unscrupulous scoundrel who was only after her money? What could he do to lower Amit’s image in her eyes? After some more thought however, he decided against the idea. It was not right to defame a good man. He had to talk to Amit directly, as man to man. One morning, he told Priyanka to ask Amit to come back home immediately after dropping her at the hospital, as he wanted him to take him to see a patient at 11 a.m. Amit dropped Priyanka and hurried home, ready to take Dr. Mathur to his patient. He was however, surprised to see Dr. Mathur sitting on the sofa in his pyjamas and vest, sporting a gloomy face. Telling Amit to sit down, Dr. Mathur got up and started pacing the room, not knowing how to begin, how to find the appropriate words. Realising that something was amiss, Amit sat down on the sofa, waiting for Dr. Mathur to speak. Approaching Amit and sitting on the sofa by his side, Dr. Mathur began: “See Amit, as you know, I have only one daughter. Her mother died a few years ago, just because no surgeon was available. There were only two eminent surgeons in Agarta then, being a very small town. One had gone out of town and the other was already in the theatre with patients lined up for surgery. She had to wait her turn. I am not a minister or big industrialist or VIP, so had no option but wait. Being a physician and a Doctor of Medicine, I could not operate on her. I did my best to save her but she needed a surgeon, that too, urgently. I saw her dying in front of my eyes.” Dr. Mathur paused to wipe his tears. He was a decent, soft-spoken man and actually did not dislike Amit. “Before she died,” he continued, “she made me promise that Priyanka should be married only to a surgeon. She felt that if her son-in-law were a surgeon, he would be around to save Priyanka or me, in case we needed surgery urgently. “I know Priya loves you and that you too love her. I also know that love is blind and does not recognise caste or creed. Love itself is the highest quality in a human being. I know too, that Priyanka cannot live without you. She has told me that she is incomplete without you. I have no objection to your age, though you are much senior to her. I’m aware that many world-renowned elderly persons have married women much younger to them. Salman Rushdie, Dilip Kumar, Pandit Ravi Shankar, Nicholas Sarkozy.... I know all this but....” He could not complete the sentence. He put his face in his hands and started weeping, surrendering abjectly to Amit, as if begging Amit to return his daughter to him. Chapter Twenty Nine Having never experienced true love – even from Mita – he had found it in Priyanka for the first time in his life. He did not want to lose it. It was his lifeline. He quickly tried to match himself to Priyanka, to find factors to justify their alliance. His mind worked briskly and he mentally noted the points that presented themselves to him: * Priyanka was young and beautiful His mind then turned to himself, finding reasons to substantiate its contention that he was the best man for Priyanka. What then, was the problem? Dr. Mathur would never be able to find a better son-in-law than Amit. He was a surgeon, so Mrs. Mathur’s dying wish would also be fulfilled. Their age held no importance, even for Dr. Mathur. Where was the problem? He bowed his head as the weight of reality struck him. To Priyanka and Dr. Mathur, Amit was only a poor, uneducated driver who was also an old man, though he did not look his age. He did not think Dr. Mathur would be impressed with his present bank balance. How could any father permit his daughter’s marriage to such a person? He had practically nothing to look forward to – not a single ray of hope. Dejected and depressed, his thoughts turned to the past. Once again, his past had returned to haunt him. He had no answer for Dr. Mathur’s imploring looks. He got up without a word and walked with heavy steps to his room. By now, he must have been sacked from West End hospital. People must have also given up looking for him. Many would have presumed he was dead. His name would have become a blot in the medical fraternity. As usual, his mind returned to the patient Ankit, who had died, and whose death had triggered a sad sequence of events. “You have killed my son Ankit!” “Give me my son back!” “You are a monster.... a murderer..... a murderer!” Amit clapped his hands to his ears as if they could shut off his voices from within. He had passed many nights in torment, the voice of Ankit’s father echoing relentlessly in his ears. At such times, he would bring out the bottle of his favourite whisky and try to drown his thoughts. He took his bottle out and started drinking, oblivious that the time was nearly noon, when he had to go to the hospital with Priyanka’s lunch. He drank glass after glass. At 12-30 p.m, when Amit did not appear, Dr. Mathur sent the watchman to fetch him. The watchman went to his room, saw Amit drinking and quietly returned and reported the matter to Dr. Mathur, who realised the agony Amit was going through. He decided that he would take Priya’s lunch himself, instead of sending the watchman. Telling the watchman to look after Amit, he set off for the hospital with Priyanka’s lunchbox. He knew that Amit was not a regular drinker but only drank casually. This was not an issue with him, for after his wife’s death, Dr. Mathur took to drinks regularly but after two months, switched back to casual drinking, especially on rainy days and moonlit nights. Seeing her father at the hospital with her lunchbox, Priyanka became alarmed and asked him repeatedly, “Where is Amitji? Why has he not come? What happened? Why have you come in his place? Is he all right?” Not getting any reply from her father, she told him to forget her lunch and just get her home. As soon as she reached the bungalow, she jumped out of the car and rushed straight to Amit’s room. Seeing him sleeping on the bed, she took his hand to check his pulse. Finding everything okay, she clasped her hands to her heart and said, “Thank God Amitji is okay.” She then noticed the whisky bottle and glass on the table. So that was why he was sleeping at this odd hour. Realising that Amit must have been hurt or deeply upset , she went to her house and confronted her father, who narrated everything to her, explaining why he had to talk to Amit. Priyanka slumped on the sofa, sobbing. “Daddy, what have you done?” she cried. Dr. Mathur did not know what to do. He was wondering if he could still console his daughter – or had he already lost his hold – his authority – over her? He knew he could command his daughter to do his bidding and could easily exert his right as her father but he did not wish to be a Hitler. He had always been soft and considerate with his daughter, more so after his wife’s death, for then he had to be both mother and father to her. He sighed, heavy at heart. Priyanka returned to her room and sat on her bed, thinking. She knew that Amitji would be a different man once he came out of the effect of alcohol. He might even distance himself from her. He hated to cut a sorry figure – she knew that very well. Though she had eaten nothing since morning, she did not even think of it. At 10 p.m., she went to see Amitji, carrying a tray of food for him. She had been checking him frequently. When she found that he was still lying in a drunken stupor, she wondered whether he had woken up and taken more drinks in her absence. She then hid the bottle and glass so that he could not consume more. She tried to shake him awake but gave up after some time. She checked his pulse, temperature etc. again. Everything was normal. She returned to her room. She would go with breakfast in the morning and handle him with love. Dr. Mathur was in a dilemma. He did not want to hurt Priyanka but he could not accept Amit as his son-in-law. He had already lost his wife. Was he now losing his daughter too? He felt lonely and friendless. He cursed himself for buying the Toyota car for Priyanka. If the Toyota had not been there, Amit would not have been there too, nor would the problems..... He sank into his easy chair with an uneasy mind. The day had been too stressful. He was tired. He went to sleep on the easy chair itself. Priyanka too, was tired. Moreover, she had not eaten anything for a long time. She fell into a deep slumber. Waking up suddenly and remembering to go with the breakfast she switched the light on to see the time. The wall clock showed it was just 4 a.m. Thinking it was too early to get up, she went back to sleep. When she woke up, it was already past seven. Hurriedly getting ready, she went to Amit’s room with breakfast but he was still asleep. She sat beside his bed and waited for him to awaken. Amit opened his eyes at 11 a.m. Seeing Priyanka sitting on a chair, he got up with a start. Priyanka was sobbing. Amit tried to console her, placing his hand on her head. At his touch, she burst out with a loud cry and held him in a tight embrace. “I cannot live without you, Amitji,” she stuttered between sobs. Amit said nothing. In fact he had decided to leave the place before dawn but had not woken up in time. Looking at Priyanka’s helplessness, he made up his mind. He would stay by her side. Chapter Thirty PERVERSE PLANS Being from the same small town, they knew each other’s families well, so Dr. Ashok never dared to cross the line drawn by Priyanka. Still, he continued to make advances and proposals to her from time to time, all of which she spurned. Dr. Ashok was aware of Priyanka’s feelings for Amit. He resented her love for a poor, illiterate driver who had no social standing. In fact, it was Ashok who had insulted Amit at a party, due to which Priyanka hand angrily walked out. Priyanka would not have gone for the party thrown by Ashok but her father had insisted. Dr. Mathur had wanted to divert her mind from Amit and get closer to Ashok. Bowing to paternal pressure, Priyanka had reluctantly agreed to attend the party. As usual, Amit had escorted Priyanka to the party. As they were both entering the party hall, discussing some matter with each other seriously, Ashok had suddenly appeared at the entrance, barring Amit’s way with his arms outstretched, preventing him from entering. He had taken his insult further by telling Amit that drivers were expected to wait in the parking lot near their vehicles and that the party hall was out of bounds for them. Furious, Priyanka had glared at Ashok before abruptly turning back and moving towards the exit. Ashok had tried to pacify her and had even said “Sorry” several times, but she had only said, “By insulting Amitji, you have insulted me.” Others had tried to intervene but she had stubbornly stood by her words and had stormed out of the premises. Since then, Ashok had always held a grudge against Amit and was looking for a chance to take revenge and put Amit down. Entering the bungalow and finding Dr. Mathur tense and nervous, he asked, “Uncle, what happened? Why are you looking so worried?” Dr. Mathur confided that the matter of Priyanka’s marriage was causing him a lot of tension. “Don’t worry uncle,” Ashok replied. “She will get thousands of proposals, one better than the another.” Dr. Mathur was not satisfied. “But…” he began, and hesitated before continuing, “Who will come forward once he knows of her involvement with a driver?” He wrung his hands. Seizing the opportunity, Ashok quietly told him, “Uncle, if you approve, I’m quite willing to marry her. I have always had a soft corner for her in my heart. With your blessings, I’m sure I can take her away from the driver.” Dr. Mathur was relieved at Ashok’s words. Even if Dr. Ashok was not a surgeon, he was a doctor and the family was from Agarta, well known to Dr. Mathur. Knowing Priyanka’s relations with Amit, Ashok had still come forward to marry her. ‘Even if I manage to find a surgeon for Priya,’ Dr. Mathur thought, ‘once he comes to know about her affair with a driver, how long will the marriage last? It would end in a divorce and lifelong misery.’ Still, he asked Ashok, “Will Priyanka agree to your proposal?” “Leave it to me, uncle,” Ashok told him, reading the distraught father’s mind. He whispered his plan into Dr. Mathur’s ear. Though the plan appeared feasible, Dr. Mathur was hesitant. He did not want to take a wrong step, but Ashok convinced him that the plan would work wonderfully and that it was the only way to make Priyanka hate Amit and obey her father’s wishes. “Rs.25 lacks would do a magic, we can buy him with that money” Ashok said. Dr. Mathur too had earlier thought of defaming Amit, so that his daughter would start hating him. He was not sure it was the right way or even the only way, as Ashok had told him. “Let me think it over,” he told Ashok. “Give me some time.” Priyanka walked in at this moment. She saw Ashok and her father talking to each other. ‘They must be hatching some plan,’ she thought with a frown. Breezily wishing him “Hi, Ashok,” she went into the house without even glancing at the two. Days passed by and things were gradually returning to normalcy in the Mathur household. Chapter Thirty One THE DETECTION DRAMA His eyes fell on the photograph of the drunken gypsy with the megaphone in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other. He called his wife to show her the picture. Taking one look at the comic character, she laughed with her husband but after a while, became serious. She took the photograph from Abhinash and examined it closely. She called her husband and showed him the photograph again. “Doesn’t he look like Dr. Sen?” she asked excitedly. The Choudhury family had searched high and low for Dr. Sen but their efforts had only met with failure. “Absurd,” said Abhinash. “Be serious. This is a drunken gypsy, part of a wandering band. How can you even dream of linking him to the famous Dr. Sen who saved Roma’s life? Dr. Sen is like God to us. This is just a dirty, drunken lout who probably cannot even read or write,” he scolded his wife, who however, was very adamant. “I’m serious, Abhinash,” his wife replied. “I’m sure this is Dr. Sen. My heart says so. My woman’s intuition says so – see… see that scar on the right side of the forehead? Dr. Sen had a scar just like that. Remember?” Abhinash looked at the photograph again. He had not noticed the scar. Now that his wife had pointed it out, there did seem to be a resemblance between the gypsy in the photograph and Dr. Sen. The scar had raised serious doubts – could this unshaven, dirty gypsy really be the famous Dr. Sen? Troubled by his wife’s observations, he phoned Dr. Rathod and Dr. Sawant and requested them to come over. He also brought in a computer-savvy person expert in photo shop. Everyone watched the computer expert at work, giving the gypsy in the photograph a haircut, a shave and put him in better clothes. As he continued making the changes, they gasped in astonishment. “My God! This is indeed Dr. Sen!” Dr. Sawant exclaimed. While they were happy that Dr. Sen was alive, they also felt sad at his condition – dirty, drunk and dishevelled and in the company of a vile band of wandering gypsies. Dr. Sawant was weeping openly. Consoling him, Abhinash said he would hire detectives to locate Dr. Sen, now that they knew he was alive and with a band of gypsies near Agarta. Abhinash repented, why he could not recognise Dr.Sen that time when he took his photograph. Abhinash called up ‘Jhuntu Goyanda,’ reputed to be the best detective agency in town but since the boss was out of India at that time, entrusted the work to the second best agency. Though this agency put eight of their best operatives on the job, they could not make much headway. When they went to the village near Agarta, they were told that the gypsies had been there, but had moved on, nobody knew where. The detectives were about to leave when one drunkard who could not even stand properly, claimed to have recognized the person in the photograph shown by the detectives. The drunkard however refused to say anything further unless he received cash In fact, when Nani and Pratima came here to rescue Amit, he was there but was not aware of their relationship. They again asked him whether what he said was correct. They also promised to pay him more money if he told the truth. Hearing this, the drunkard became greedier. He said, swaying under the influence of alcohol, “I swear my bottle. You stay here. I shall go there and bring that bastard here by his ear. As he was really about to move out, the detective team trusted him. They paid him some more money and left for Agarta. After reaching Agarta, they enquired with the neighbours, who revealed that both Nani and Pratima were dead and Amit had left the house where he had been staying as a guest without leaving any hint of where he was going. The detectives enquired for a few more days, covering all the 20 bars in Agarta. The bar that Amit used to go had been closed down. Finally, they left Agarta, unsuccessful in their efforts to trace the gypsy who looked like Dr. Sen – or who could actually have been Dr. Sen in person. Abhinash was disappointed. He had expected the team of detectives to come up with something concrete, especially when he had given them a free hand, telling them that money was not an issue, but they had to find Dr. Sen. However, the closest link had been the drunkard who had made grand promises about “catching the bastard by his ear” and dragging him in front of the detectives. That was all they could achieve in their search for the elusive surgeon. They were quite systematic, sending daily reports to Abhinash. He had felt hopeful when they had discovered that he had stayed with Nani and Pratima but even this lead had petered out. He once again checked up and finding that Mr. Jhuntu, boss of ‘Jhuntu Goyanda,’ had returned, entrusted further investigations to this agency, stopping the services of the previous. Chapter Thirty Two PUTTING PLANS TO ACTION He was telling her that her father was worried about her marriage. She was about to ask him “What concern is it of yours?” when his next words stunned and infuriated her. “Amit does not love you,” Ashok said. “He is only after your money and property.” Even as Priyanka angrily told him to shut up, he continued, “I can prove it to you.” In a rage, she said, “Just shut up and get out!” Since Ashok did not show any sign of leaving, she got up from her chair and stormed out of her cabin. Seeing Priyanka pensive and worried, Dr. Mathur approached her. It was after dinner and her mind was still revolving round what Ashok had told her in the afternoon. “What happened?” he asked. “You look disturbed.” She told him about Ashok’s visit to her cabin in the afternoon. “He was trying to brainwash me, telling me all rubbish about Amitji,” she complained. Dr. Mathur had been waiting for this opportunity. “Well, what can I say,” he sighed. “You have made up your mind to put your trust in Amit and hand over your heart to him.” He paused for a while before continuing, “But looking at it rationally, if Ashok is so sure, why not ask him to prove what he is saying? Let Ashok run his little test on Amit. If he is right, we will come to know the truth. If not, I will not come between you and Amit. After all, I am your father and your happiness is what I want. My concern is that you should not be cheated by someone who is simply pretending to love you when he is actually after your wealth.” Priyanka thought for a moment. Could Ashok be right? She was sure he was not. In that case, Amit would be sure to ‘pass’ the test laid out by Ashok. Seeing her wavering, Dr. Mathur chipped in: “Actually, Ashok had told me many days ago that Amit had demanded Rs.25 lacks to leave you but I had kept quiet for if I had told you, you would not have believed me. Now, it is up to you to either know for sure whether Amit is a greedy scoundrel or a truly sincere person. Actually, Ashok told me that Amit was such a rogue that one day, he would even sell you for money.” He hastily added, “I hope this is not true, but it is always better to find the truth and be certain.” Priyanka was in a fix. If Amit did not pass the litmus test, she would have to marry Dr. Ashok. If Amit came out clear, then nobody – not even her father – could object to their being together. He had even promised emotionally to get her married to Amit if he came out of the test successfully. She decided to take the plunge. It would solve a number of problems – remove her father’s objection, unite her with Amit and remove Dr. Ashok from her life. After all, it was some stupid test that Amit would clear effortlessly – she was sure about that. She told her father to go ahead. The next day, Dr. Mathur withdrew cash Rs. 25 lakhs from the bank. Returning home, he packed all the crisp notes into an air bag, in front of Priyanka. Ashok too was there, assisting Dr. Mathur. On their instructions, Priyanka hid behind a curtain, where she could not be seen but at the same time, could see what was happening in the room. Dr. Mathur then called Amit. She could see them talk, but could not hear the words. She saw her father open the air bag and show its contents to Amit, who was smiling Priyanka’s heart thumped against her ribs. However, nothing of the sort happened. After looking into the bag, Amit continued talking to Dr. Mathur for a few more minutes. Finally, Dr. Mathur shook Amit’s hand with a smile. This had never happened before. Priyanka was shocked. Amit too, was smiling as he picked up the bag and left the room, unaware that Priyanka was watching his every move. As soon as he left, Priyanka collapsed on the spot. Hearing her fall, Dr. Mathur and Ashok rushed to find Priyanka senseless on the floor. It took her a full 24 hours to come to consciousness from the shock. Her dad, and even Ashok had been right all along. Amit had loved her money, not her. She was totally shattered, sobbing throughout the day in her room. Her good friend Manisha too, was very upset that Amit had deceived Priyanka – for a mere Rs. 25 lacks. She had never imagined that he would stoop to such a low level. She tried to console her friend, being with her most of the time, trying to cheer her up and keep her busy. Dr. Mathur and Dr. Ashok however, were very happy that their plan had worked. Amit had been got rid of and Priyanka had no option but to marry Dr.Ashok as promised. They went ahead hurriedly with the arrangements for the wedding. Priyanka however, was still not ready to come to terms with reality. She refused to marry Dr. Ashok. Her heart was not in it. She could love only one person in her life. That was Amit, and he had played a cruel trick on her. The wounds were still raw. When Priyanka refused to marry Dr. Ashok in spite of the fixing of the marriage date, Dr. Mathur was upset and agitated. This affected his health and he suffered a mild heart attack and had to be rushed to the ICU. Looking at her father’s condition, Priyanka finally agreed to marry Dr. Ashok. Chapter Thirty Three THE MAROONED MARRIAGE Priyanka was restless at first and then became listless, turning into an automaton and going through her daily chores like a machine, feeling neither heat nor cold, eating without hunger and lying down without sleep. She started taking sleeping tablets. Twice, she even tried to commit suicide but was prevented from doing so by Manisha. She could not forget Amit. The more she tried to forget him, the more he came into her mind. She remembered how Amit had cared for her and treated her when her father had been away. She did not know it, but Amit had signed the prescription as Dr. Sen, bought the medicines and had even taken the tablets out of their strips and destroyed the empty strips and the prescriptions so that she would not know what the medicines were or who had prescribed them. If names were engraved on the tablets, he would go to the extent of crushing the tablets into powder before giving them to her. He had stayed by her side day and night, not bothering about his own comfort He had actually saved her life. Was all the care he gave her only a drama? It was hard to believe and harder to accept. She closed her eyes and pictured Amit seated on the floor, sleeping with his head resting on the bed where she lay during her sickness. All that concern, all that love – was everything false? He had practically cleaned out his bank account to buy her a diamond ring. Was that too just a show, or was it an investment for bigger returns? He had torn his handkerchief to tie her wound when she was hurt at Ajan hill. Was it the same Amitji who had deserted her for Rs. 25 lacks? If he had only waited for some more time, he could have had much more. When she had decided to give herself to him, what was money to her? He could have had her and the property both. Why did he disappear with Rs. 25 lacks? It was so unlike the Amitji she knew. The day of Priyanka’s marriage to Dr. Ashok dawned. There was still no news of Amit or his whereabouts. Priyanka and Manisha had all but given up hope. The Mathur bungalow wore a festive look, decorated with buntings and coloured lights. There was a large shamiana on the lawn. Servants were scurrying here and there and were frequently given instructions by the contractors who had been given various jobs – there was a contractor for decoration and lights, another for furniture, yet another for music, and there was a kitchen contractor with a small army of his assistants, busy preparing various delicacies for the guests who would soon be arriving. Though there was a lot of activity, there was no real happiness. Everything was going on mechanically, devoid of gaiety. Manisha had undertaken the responsibility of distributing some of the wedding cards. As happens always, some persons had been missed out. The bank manager was one of them. Manisha went to his office hurriedly to give him the invitation. She apologised to him for giving it so late, but he smiled in understanding. He knew Manisha as well as the Mathur family and that they had nobody to look after these jobs. “The groom must be an extremely good man, said Mr. Sharma, the bank manager. Manisha was seething in anger. What did Mr. Sharma know about Dr. Ashok? Hiding her ire, she asked, “Why do you say that, Mr. Sharma? Do you know him?” “No, I don’t,” said the bank manager. “But when Dr. Mathur withdrew Rs. 25 lacks from the bank, he said it was to buy a flat and a car for the groom. However, he deposited the same amount back into his account the next day, so I gathered that the groom must have refused to accept anything.” “What!” shouted Manisha. Startled and confused at her reaction, the manager explained: “Dr. Mathur actually returned the same notes that were given to him. Not even one bundle was broken, not one note changed.” Shocked out of her wits, Manisha blurted out, “I don’t believe it. Can you please show me the entry where Dr. Mathur deposited the entire money back?” Seeing him hesitate, Manisha pleaded with him. “Please, Mr. Sharma,” she begged. “It is very important. I just want to make sure.” Looking at her heaving in emotional excitement, the manager showed her the two entries on his computer. After all, he knew the Mathurs and also how close Manisha was to Priyanka, and she only wanted to see these two transactions, nothing else. Manisha too, was his neighbour and he knew her well. When she saw the two entries on consecutive days, Manisha burst into tears, ineffectually dabbing at her eyes with a miniscule handkerchief. Nonplussed at her reaction, Mr. Sharma offered her a glass of water and asked her if everything was all right. “I’m okay… thank you,” said Manisha, controlling herself and quickly taking his leave. If the money was back in the bank, where was the money given to Amit? Was it given at all? And where was Amit himself? Had something happened to him? She rushed to break the information to Priyanka before it was too late. Dr. Mathur had gone to the priest’s house, so Manisha and Priyanka could talk freely. Manisha narrated her visit to the bank and the startling discovery she had made, out of sheer accident. It was obvious that there was some dirty work. Her father and Ashok were both involved in some sinister plan. Amit had not taken any money. He was totally innocent. When the realisation struck her, Priyanka wailed, “Amitji, where are you?” She broke down. Seeing her crying, Manisha too started sobbing. “Did I not tell you that Amitji was not a greedy, scheming man? He is a gentleman to the core,” said Priyanka. Seeing that she was getting worked up, Manisha tried to console her. “Yes, your Amitji is one in a million,” she told her, but Priyanka went on, “See this ring, Manisha?” The ring was still on her finger, which she proudly held up for Manisha to see. “You know, he spent his entire life savings on this ring for me – and I didn’t even know it till you told me how costly it was, yes Amitji only gave me this ring.” “When I increased his salary from Rs. 3000 to Rs. 5000, he refused to accept it. He said he didn’t need so much. I had to force him to accept it. And he….” Manisha cut her short, fearing she would go into hysteria. “Let us try to find Amitji and get him back,” she said. “Ashok would know where he is. Let us go to his house and ask him.” Priyanka jumped up and then stood still, uncertain. “Manisha, will Amitji forgive me?” she asked. “Of course he will,” Manisha replied. “What have you done? It was Ashok’s plan and you did not even know what it was. Moreover, Amitji loves you.” Mollified, Priyanka set out with her friend to Ashok’s house. Dr. Ashok was surprised at seeing Priyanka entering his house on their wedding day, but he was also very happy that she had come. He smilingly came forward but was taken aback when Priyanka roughly grabbed his collar and asked him where Amitji was. It was an extreme embarrassment for him to be humiliated in front of his family and others. He tried to pacify her and change the topic but Priyanka would not let go, threatening to file an FIR with the police, saying he had kidnapped Amit. Cornered, Ashok spilt the beans, telling her everything. Hearing his words, Priyanka became hysterical but Manisha somehow managed to control her and get her home. Once home however, the sight of the decorations and furniture snapped the minds of both the young girls. Picking up a couple of bamboo sticks lying in the drive way, the two went on a rampage, smashing lights, upturning furniture, breaking the PA system sound box, vandalising everything they could lay their hands on. Both had gone berserk. The servants ran helter-skelter, afraid to come in their way and get hurt. After about ten minutes, their rage somewhat abated, they threw the sticks and went into Priyanka’s room. Opening one of the cupboards to take the car key, Priyanka’s eyes fell on an airbag lying inside. “Look Manisha!” she cried. “This must be the other bag. It is the same as the one that was given to Amitji.” The two friends sat down and reconstructed the whole incident – how Ashok had tricked Amit and Priyanka, with the help from Dr. Mathur. That day, Dr. Mathur had called Amit and told him that there had been an urgent call from his friend Bikash. He required some papers and files relating to an old court case immediately. Amit had to carry the documents to Lonav and deliver them as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Ashok had already bought two airbags exactly similar. He had put some old files and papers in one of the air bags. He had hid this bag. In the other bag, he had packed the cash Dr. Mathur had brought from the bank. This was done in front of Priyanka. Ashok had switched bags without Priyanka’s knowledge. Thus, when Dr. Mathur had handed over the air bag, it had contained some old, useless papers and some files – not cash, though he had told Priyanka that Amit had demanded Rs. 25 lacks to leave her. Amit had shaken hands with Dr. Mathur that day, but this was because Dr. Mathur had extended his hand first. How could Amit or anyone refuse to shake a proffered hand? The smile that Amit gave Dr. Mathur was only in response to the latter’s comment that now he looked like a real doctor. Priyanka, who had not heard her father’s words, had mistaken the smile as one of joy in receiving the money. Dr. Ashok and her father had deliberately led her into this misunderstanding. Dr. Mathur’s friend Bikash was waiting for Amit, though he had told his servant Raghu to tell him that he had gone out and would be back in the evening. He also told Raghu to provide Amit with lunch and a place to rest. Bikash then phoned Dr. Mathur that Amit had arrived and that all was going according to the plan. Taking the airbag from Amit, Raghu placed it in his master’s room. Returning to Amit, he asked him, “Why the glum face? Last time you came, you were so cheerful and happy.” Then, with a twinkle in his eye and a mischievous smile, he continued, “Oh, I know why you are so quiet. It is because Priyanka madam has not come, right?” Amit did not reply. He had his lunch and since there was nothing to do, went for a nap. When Amit did not get up for dinner, Raghu became alarmed and told his master, who summoned his doctor friend Rajat, who came and after having a look at Amit, gave him an injection and left. Nobody knew that Bikash had spiked the food with drugs to induce sleep. Poor Raghu had also no idea that the injected drug was a heavy sleeping dose. It was part of the plan to keep Amit in deep slumber till Priyanka’s marriage was over. By the time he woke up, it would have been too late to do anything. Dr. Rajat would come twice every day – in the morning and in the evening – and give Amit an injection. Amit continued to sleep. Looking at his deteriorating health, Raghu became worried. He even went to Bikash and suggested a change of doctor but his master severely reprimanded him and told him to mind his business. Raghu could make out that something was fishy. All was not as it seemed to be, but he did not know what to do. At this rate, there was nothing to do but wait for Amit to die……………..Love story continues. Read the book to know…........ Dr.Sen and Dr.Priyanka’s roller coaster ride through life which is a page turner, full of twist and turns, never a certainty of what will happen next |
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MUMBAI UNIVERSITY From where Author completed his M.Com & Post Graduation in Business Management |
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