3 months since then …

A dark road. The orange glow of street lamps light up the road. The cold night air is hurting my lungs. I bury my hands deep into my jacket pockets as I trudge back home. The screen and the green psychedelic waveforms are still fresh in my mind. My stomach rumbles in hunger. I don’t think  there will be anything leftover from when the guys had dinner hours ago. I take a sip from my water bottle and try to douse the hunger. A car passes by blasting hip-hop in its speakers. I haven’t really slept in a long time.

Somewhere deep down me, a voice is crying and calling this madness.

Its difficult to miss Him. Its safe to say half a billion people will not ever miss him. Not while he is doing what he does best; make people ride the roller-coaster of Eustress (Euphoria+Stress). I look around the room. I have rarely seen a smile in such a room before. But today is different. He is there.

A round of cheers brings me back to Him. It is going to be a special day. He is inching towards a place no man has been before. Another round of applause follows. My eyes fall on the cash counter. Its not a place where people are patient, and long queues usually mean a lot of irritated rants. Today is different. The cash lady is looking at Him. And so are the five persons in the queue. I take my eyes off Him as I get summoned inside the chamber.

A short discussion later I am sent upstairs for some tests. I pass a man being rolled in a stretcher and hooked up to an IV unit. As they pass the hallway heading towards the elevator, the group stops. I can’t suppress a smile as I see the man on the stretcher craning his neck to look at Him and asking for the score. I hope he smiled through his pain. When I reach the new waiting room, the same scene greets me. Man with a broken arm, quibbling with his wife that he is not ready to leave the screen to get X-rayed until He reaches his destination. The radiologist himself is darting between patients to see Him practice his art. Its going to be anytime now that He will get the double ton.

After the tests, I head back to the previous waiting area. I am glad to see that in the short time that I was inside the austere room, I did not miss anything. I am holding the tests in my hand and I am nervous. Nervous about what the tests mean. Nervous about whether He will be able to go where no man has been before. And then the chamber beckons me again. In a few minutes, I come out. I rush to the screen, and thats when he scores that last run. I join in with the cheers. The stress is over and its euphoria that is flowing through my body. He has created history and the tests have gone well. I have nothing more to worry about for now. I see strangers hugging each other in joy. The sick and healthy are all smiling.

As I walk out of the building, I realize, to be where He is, is to lead a blessed life. To have the power to make the hearts of a billion people swell with joy, to make them forget about their pain and smile through it, is the closest a mortal can be to God. I entered the building nervous, but I come out with hope and happiness. And my joy is shared by all the poor souls who did not walk out of the building with me. I hope they do soon.

We were delighted to see the bunk beds. We had never slept in one. And Dad’s friends always give us chocolates when we sing. But what makes Mom most happy is that Uncle’s face lights up when I sit on his lap. But I think he is really worried. He doesn’t give much attention to what I say these days.

The garden is just lovely. Helmut likes to go around and collect berries for us. And then we share them together. Hedda collects those little seeds. Heidrun will run up to one of the men, tug at his trousers and say she will give him a kiss if he picks her up and shows what’s on the other side of the wall. The little flirt has not been successful yet. But I wonder what’s on the other side. Sometimes Dad joins us. Yesterday was really bad. Those booming sounds were coming a lot and Dad came up to be with us. I ran to him and he picked me up and I sat with my arms around his neck. I told him that I don’t think those sounds are lightning as Mom tells us. And neither does Helmut. He looked at me, put me down and walked away. I think I upset him.

But today is worse. We haven’t gone out all day. And we can’t find Blondi to play with. We can’t even hear her or Wolf bark when the booming sound comes. Yesterday Helmut and I decided that the booms were not lightning. He says someone must be throwing big stones at us. I think he is right. But worse of all we did not have anything to eat. We went to Mom but she did not seem to hear us. She was looking at the gold pin Uncle had given her yesterday and was muttering to herself. I took the others out of the room and we went and sat on the stairs. Miss Traudl came and saw us. She was very nice. She gave us food and read us some stories. Suddenly there was this really loud boom which felt right on top of us. Helmut exclaimed that the stone-throwers had hit bull’s eye. Miss Traudl didn’t laugh. I found that strange.

Then Mom came to take us to our room. When we were going downstairs we smelt cigarettes. I had not smelt cigarettes here before. Uncle hated them. Hedwig said, “Maybe Uncle had finally gone out to play. He was looking as tired as Holdine does when we do not let her play.” I said, “Silly, Grown-ups do not play.” In our room, Mom sat us down. And then Dad came in. Mom looked at him and he looked away. She said, “Helga, would you like a world without Uncle and us ?” I was surprised. I said, “Of course not!” Dad asked eagerly, “So you would come with us wherever we go ? And you will trust us that we have the right reasons for going ?” I looked around and everyone looked puzzled. Only Mom and Dad were waiting eagerly for an answer. I asked, “Are we going away from here ? I would love that. We are all feeling a bit scared now.” Dad sighed and walked out of the room. But he seemed happy with my reply. I was glad. Mom came over and hugged us all and said, “No dear. You should not feel scared. We will never let those bad men hurt you. We are all getting away from here. Now get dressed. Won’t you like to put on your dresses with the white ribbons ?” I said, “But those are our birthday dresses. Aren’t we going to sleep now ?” She said, “The Doctor will come to take a look at you. The air is a bit damp here and you will need vaccines.” And then she went out.

As I am helping Heidrun put on her dress I wonder why we are getting vaccines. No one around us is sick. And I hate needles. I will ask Dad to not let them give one to me. I will promise him I am fine. We are dressed and Mom has come back with the Doctor, but I cannot find Dad. The Doctor first goes to Heidrun and says to her, “Lovely lady, won’t you let your handsome doctor give you a vaccine ?” She giggles and as the Doctor pushes the plunger she buries her face in Mom’s lap. But soon it is over. The doctor then moves on to Hedda, Holde and Hilde. They are so brave, they do not cry even a little bit. But my eyes are welling up. I feel ashamed … but I still don’t want the needle near me. The Doctor is giving Helmut the shot now. Mom looks at him and says “I am proud of you.” It is my turn next. As the Doctor comes towards me, I yelp and run for the door shouting, “Daddy ! I don’t want the shot.” Mom grabs me and pulls me back. She puts her large palms across my mouth and says, “Shh, you are embarrassing me. You are the eldest of them all and you are behaving like a baby. Be proud !” As I scream, and try to squirm away, I see Dad’s face at the door. But the Doctor pins my hands, Mom pushes my face into the pillow and I feel the needle on my arms. And then it is all over.

I feel silly creating such a fuss about it. But I keep pouting and do not smile like the other’s when Mom wishes us good night. But then I look at Dad’s face and his eyes are wet. Mom gets up and as she passed him at the door, she says, “Come, we must be strong. They would have realized if they were older.” I look at the others. Heidrun is asleep, firmly hugging her doll. How can she fall asleep when I was creating such a racket ? But then I see the others are sleepy too. They are barely able to keep their eyes open. Helmut comes over to me and says, “Why did you try to scare us ?” I said, “I don’t know. I panicked. Usually Dad holds my hands when I have a vaccine.” I turn to look at him but he is already asleep on my bed. And suddenly I am feeling very tired too. I let go of the pout. I decide to be angry with Dad tomorrow, when he will come to wake me up. As I drift off, I dream of Mom. She is in her room reciting her favourite Buddhist lines slowly. I once asked her what they meant and she said that when people die innocent, they are reborn as beautiful people again. As she recites she is walking on glass which is crackling below her feet. And then she comes to me and holds something to my mouth. I want to ask her what it is, but then I know from the smell. It is almonds. I always like it better when Dad feeds me though …

Editor’s Note: Author’s interpretation of a historical event from Helga’s viewpoint. Truth can indeed beat fiction any time.

Me and Ms. A go back a long way. I first met her on the first week in college. We have been going steady since then. She could not understand my need for N. She has been loyal and cared deeply for me. She often caressed my head in her lap as I drifted off to sleep. But she was not there during the day. And I was a Man. Every man when faced with a choice between two, secretly wants them both. And I had them both. They hated it. For the night they would hide their differences and take me where I wanted to be. One would excite me and the other would calm me down. They would be the perfect hostess when Metallica and I partied together. But the next morning they would give me hell. After three months, A snapped. She got a restraining order. N could not be seen in the vicinity of A any longer. It was a clever move. My threesomes came to an end.

Its been a year that I have been double timing and I feel like a scumbag. The days have become a little brighter. But even a passing cloud makes me crave N’s company. It ached to not be with N. And of course A and I are meant to be forever, so that was never over. And then one day I stumbled over this gem from my childhood – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rK8oT2-Jyy4 ( the original song can be found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWqa_8QR4KU ). When something from the innocent past hits you, it hits you hard. I remembered my promise to show N who was the Man. I had been the fool all along. N made me feel like a man, but in effect I was her’s to play with. The failure to be her master haunted me. But the times spent with her … it would be hard to let go.

It is hard. Its been a few days I have not been seeing Ms. N. She has taken the break-up hard. She stalks me. She smiles her wicked seductive smile from behind roadside betel-leaf shops. She will walk past me in another man’s hands and look at me slyly and make it clear that she was pleasuring the man. Without Ms. A, I could not have gone through this. It’s the thought of my nights with her that keeps me sane during the day. Things would never go wrong with A. She loves me too much and when being with her starts hurting me, she leaves me alone for a few days. Giving space; the cornerstone of every successful relationship.

Those who tackle a conflict head on, seek stimulants. Those who tend to avoid them, seek depressants. And those who explain away the conflict with an alternate reality, seek hallucinogens. Ms. N was a stimulant. Ms. A is a depressant. And they say nothing about how I tackle conflicts, not anymore .

There are bars with good food, bars with good music and bars with a good crowd. QBA is a bar with a view. A view of Connaught Place, urban Delhi set in colonial times. There are tall white pillars, and old renovated buildings, housing multinationals. The buildings are tall enough to be imposing, but short enough to offer you an expansive view of glittering lights in the foggy winter night from the terrace of QBA. We order a round of rum and coke and a tandoori platter. And that’s when Riches points out the lady. She sat behind a table like a plump imposing Buddha, with a look of supreme confidence that exudes power. A look, that I can only assume comes from years of experience with strong human beings, made weak with blows dealt out by fate, who come to her and handover the reins of their lives. The lady, with a table full of cards in front of her and an ornate little box, was a Tarot reader.

The Serpent is getting frisky, impatient for the comfort of sketchy answers and promises of a benevolent future. So we wait for Her to be free and plant ourselves around the table. My mind wistfully thinks of the half eaten platter with succulent delicacies that will only give us a cold welcome when we get back. But I am jerked back to the present when She asks us to read the rules posted on a board with a wave of her hand. The rules say to ask specific questions with a yes/no answer. Is it not against the very nature of fortune-tellers to be specific instead of vague ? But I do not have time to ponder as the Serpent volunteers for the first question. I sit on the side from where I have a good view of all our faces and the cards on the table. He starts pulling out the cards, with his left hand, and places them face downwards on the table. A myriad collection of pictures flashes past me. Was that the Pantheon ? That was definitely labeled Queen. Why do the cards remind me of paintings of medieval Europe ? She raises her hand and the Serpent stops. Her answer evokes a wry smile. She says there is going to be a long wait for his burden to become light. He shoots another question and the cycle begins again. Flowers, animals and maidens pile up on the table. And as before, it all suddenly stops with her gesture. A tense moment of nervous anticipation and this time the answer casts a shadow over his career aspersions. Its human to yearn for a happy ending. So the Serpent pursues with more Questions and the answers seem to totter from firm No’s to Maybe’s. The Serpent decides to call it a day and Riches takes his place. He is still agitated with the answers and the alcohol was not helping. The grandiose lady gently suggests that she is good with questions about what other people are thinking. And so Riches obliges her. The answer is very apparent and the Lady doesn’t disappoint. Riches has done this before, many a times. And so she quickly gives up the seat … and I take it.

I sit down and look at her face. It has an effortless smile and a gentle encouragement to begin. I start handing her cards – methodically going through the straight line she has laid out her cards in.  She answers my question with a yes, but instead of continuing  says, “You are not good with politics and that will affect your career.” ! I hear the tinkle of cutlery and the gentle inquiries of the waiters. Through the haze of alcohol and the single candle burning on the table I try to explain away the fact that she just spelt out something that was on my mind a lot lately but was absolutely unrelated to the question. Was this how Holmes affected Watson ? But there is not even a veneer of logic here. Maybe more like how the fakir affected Tintin. She smiles and asks if I have any more Questions. I say no. She volunteers the information that she did a MBA in Boston … majoring in “Divine Projections”. I get the feeling that she is enjoying the reaction she has produced in a skeptic. We wrap up our session. The little box swallows our crisp notes.

We go back to our table. The candles flicker and the shadows dance. Riches and the Serpent are conversing. Her gentle laughter floats in and a few stray words make it inside my ears. ‘Aura’, ‘not always true’, ‘good business’. But I have only one word – Spooky. And yes, I am still a skeptic.

As the evening approaches and my brain starts cracking under the strain of logic, I find my friend standing behind me. He has been through a lot lately. He wants a smoke and a patient ear. Matters of the heart are something God didn’t equip us to handle efficiently. We go to the smoking room and light up. The cigarette break does not really help. We decide to call it a day.

I drop him off at his place and drive back at a leisurely pace. Her eyes … the mind meanders when you take the oft-trodden road. ….. BAM, 10 yr old kid, right in front of my car. My feet hit the brakes. The car screeches to a stop. The front bumper touches the kid’s knees, but doesn’t injure him. He takes a few steps backwards, and unceremoniously wets his pants. The mother who is taking groceries out of her car drops a few bags. A second or two passes, I am immobile. The kid looks like a bird that hit a window pane, a dazed look, with the comprehension of a close call and the possibility of a stern rebuke from mom just dawning on him. An ice-cream truck man has stopped dead in his tracks. I ease the car back into motion and drive away.

A split second delay in reaction and I would have been looking at blood on my hands and a longish jail term. Courts in India aren’t fair. Though I doubt any kind of life, inside or outside a cell, will be worth living with the knowledge that you killed an innocent, albeit careless, kid. Parents don’t teach their kids how to cross roads anymore. I drive back to my office. There are promises to keep.

I have dinner at office, crunch some more logic out of my brain, encode it, and for the second time, call it a day. Its past midnight and I am driving back along a narrow lane adjacent to a highway. Its been a long and tiring day. Would have been nice if I could have seen her eyes once today … the mind strays when you are a regular on some road. 3 cars pass by me at high speed, I am tired and driving slow. A fourth car starts to overtake me. I see its high beam closing up on me in the rear view mirror. I am 22. Youth kicks in at unexpected moments. I keep accelerating. The car doesn’t give up. The speedometer says I am doing 90 kmph !! … on a narrow road . There’s an intersection 100 metres ahead. I let go of the accelerator and ease back. As the car passes me, I could feel a drunken victorious grin burning through 2 pairs of tinted windows and the night’s darkness. You ask how can I be so sure ? The car has a Haryana license plate. You still ask why ? You are evidently not from India and don’t know of India’s stereotypes. On second thoughts …. you are better off without them: stereotypes are mean. The moment’s over. I feel waves of exhaustion hit me. My mind wanders back to her eyes …. at the same time I notice that I am at the intersection, yet the other car still hasn’t slowed down. There’s a bright flash of light, and flying debris hits my windshield.

The car has crashed right into a concrete divider at the intersection. I slow my car down further. The driver staggers out and inspects the car that has swerved into the middle of the highway. The front axle is broken. I don’t know about internal injuries, but the guy is lucky to be standing on his feet after a 90 kmph crash. I ease my car back into a steady speed.

The moon is shining bright today. Big and crooked. The craters seem to form an angry face. The death god wouldn’t be happy if someone narrowly sidesteps his devious machinations and refuses to be his executioner. Or maybe its my guardian angel’s way of telling me to not let young years be the excuse for … well a lot of things. I feel a shiver run down my spine. My stiff drink is over. For the ‘third’ time, I decide its better to call it a day (night). As I ease into my bed, my mind is back on the eyes … and there’s a funny feeling in my stomach …