Get One Bye Two

by Dhiraj Singh

  Umar sat next to Rajni, unlike his usual position in the rear seat.

  As they took the highway to the city, Rajni asked Umar in amazement, “Sir, are you afraid of my driving? Because I am a woman?”

  Not many of her passengers sat in the front seat with her.

  “No. No. Not at all. I just wanted to give you more respect. And make others more confused about our relationship status. By others, I mean the people who saw you shout for me at the airport. And please stop calling me sir, will you?”

  “Okay sir… I mean, Umar. But that means I cannot say one of my favourite dialogues when I have important passengers like you.”

  “What dialogue Rajni?”

  “Behind every hard driving man’s success is a woman. And behind every safe driving woman is a successful man. You like it, Umar?”

  “Hahaha! You are funny too! I like it. We make a good match, Rajni. I fly in the skies above, and you fly on the roads down here,” Umar flirted innocently, putting his black goggles on, but not before unconsciously flicking it in a typical Ramaan Khanna style.

  “Hmm… both looks and style,” Rajni complimented innocently.

  “Just like your brains and body,” Umar blurted out.

  Rajni blushed and put her hand through her short hair. The compliment reminded her of something. She just could not place her fingers on it. She brought her hand down from her hair and put her fingers on her lips, tapping it gently, while steering the wheel with the other hand.

  “Do you flirt like this with your air hostesses too, Umar?” Rajni asked with an impish smile.

  “Only if I like them very much in the first meeting itself. Haha! Nothing like that, Rajni. I just feel so comfortable around you. As though we have been through so much together in life earlier.”

  “Do you say this to all your girlfriends too, Umar?”

  Rajni had not yet wiped the impish smile from her face.

  “Come on! I am being serious,” Umar complained, gently poking Rajni on her shoulders.

  “Umar, this is a short journey. Enjoy it while it lasts. Don’t get so serious.”

  Rajni was used to passengers flirting with her. Some had even proposed marriage on their first ride with her.

  “I get the hint, ma’am. We pilots are very good at code language. Let’s listen to some songs on the radio now, shall we?” Umar said, trying to put on a nonchalant face.

  “Sure Umar.”

  Rajni turned the radio on. The song Rajni loved was being played. It was from the first movie of actor Sanjay Dutt. “Kya yahin pyaar hai, ha yahin pyaar hai….”

  The car was under the overbearing arch in front of the hotel lobby by the time the song ended. Umar wanted the journey to last a bit longer. He took off his goggles and looked at Rajni, hoping to get some sign from her. Rajni looked at him and smiled, as she leaned a bit towards Umar. Umar too inched a bit towards her.

  “Umar?”

  “Yes Rajni.”

  “My money please.” The impish smile was back.

  “Yes, yes! I forgot! Here it is. Sorry! And thank you for the ride. Hope we meet again,” Umar said expectantly, as he stepped out from the car.

  “Yes, we will, if we are destined to. But only if you give me that Snickers bar in your pocket.”

  Umar was flabbergasted. How did Rajni know that he was carrying a Snickers chocolate bar? Was this a divine code? What was he to do now? He did what was expected of him.

  “Here, have the chocolate bar. This is my offering to destiny.”

  “Thank you!” Rajni shouted as she sped away in her car, leaving Umar standing in a cloud of smoke and mixed feelings.

  Umar went up to his tiny room on the top floor of the hotel and had a bath. He changed into comfortable clothes and rested on the soft bed, thinking about Rajni. She was not the most beautiful girl he had met. She wasn’t the most intelligent or stylish girl he had talked to. “But there was something about her,” he thought. Lost in his thoughts, he casually turned the pages of a movie magazine in the hotel room. He was relieved that he did not see Rajni’s face in the glamorous photographs of actresses in the magazine. He was not hallucinating. So he was still sane, with a sound mind.

  Umar’s eyes froze at the headline of an article in the magazine.

  Ramaan Khanna, Godfather to Most, Satan to Few

  The article described the incidents related to the infamous ‘couch casting’ syndrome in the industry. It spoke about one producer in particular, who had cast his lustful moves far and wide. Many newcomers in the industry, both young men and women, had complained to the seniors and associations in the industry about this producer, Andy. But the producer was so powerful that nobody dared to even speak against him, forget do anything against him. Only one person in the industry was more powerful than him. That was Ramaan Khanna.

  Ramaan had hired a private investigator who managed to click a few pictures of Andy in compromising positions with a few boys. The pictures were circulated to all media houses who had a field day bringing the producer down on his knees. The final ‘kick’ was given by Ramaan himself, who named a cocktail drink in his restaurant Randy Andy Brandy. The drink was an instant success and was soon the talk of the town. Soon Andy left the Bollywood industry and Mumbai too. He was not to be seen in any of the metros. A few days later, Nady Richards, a convicted serial rapist of many young artists in the Hollywood city of Los Angeles, committed suicide in prison.

  17

  Anil’s and Lina’s restaurants were voted among the most unique new restaurants in the Delhi-NCR region. The Times Group rewarded them with free air tickets and a seat in the coveted VIP box for the IPL final in Bangalore. Anil and Lina were both on the same morning flight to the Garden City. The IPL final was to start in the afternoon.

  Anil and Lina were seated ten rows apart in the flight. While standing in the queue to board the flight, Anil thought he saw a familiar face looking at him. But by the time he turned to catch a glimpse of the face, there was nobody he could recognise.

  As the flight took off, the air hostesses soon started serving non-alcoholic drinks and snacks. The earlier they finished their tasks, the more time they would have to relax and catch up on the latest gossip about the other air hostesses and pilots—which air hostess was with which pilot. The air hostess serving Lina was very surprised by a request from her.

  “Can I have Diet Coke mixed with Sprite please, and with no ice?” Lina requested politely.

  “Eh… Yes ma’am. Sure!”

  A few minutes later, the air hostess was more surprised when she asked Anil what he would like to have.

  “Can I have Sprite mixed with Diet Coke please?” he asked.

  “Yes! Why not? Would you like some ice with it?” the amused air hostess asked excitedly.

  Anil thought for a moment. He was thirsty, and it was hot. The passenger on his left had taken a few additional cubes of ice and was enjoying his chilled drink.

  “Yes…,” said Anil, before he heard his co-passenger cough a few times.

  “Actually, no. Leave it. No ice please.” Anil changed his mind almost instantaneously.

  The air hostess took note of this strange coincidence. She was happy to add this to her repertoire of gossip to share with her friends later. “Who has Sprite and Diet Coke and that too with no ice,” she wondered.

  Bangalore was bustling with energy and passion that day. The Bangalore team was playing the Chennai team. The passion between the two cities over the game of cricket was more than their dispute over water sharing.

  There were superstars playing on either side. But the biggest superstar was Ramaan Khanna, who was to do a special performance at the cricket ground. Maru and Umar were more excited about his performance than the game. In fact, they didn’t care who won the game. Their favourite, the Delhi team, had anyway been relegated to the last position in the rankings yet again this year.

  Maru and Umar bonded like old friends at the VIP box. Beer was in full flow. The sponsors of the Bangal
ore team was a beer-making company and it made sure it provided a ‘high’ to the people in the privileged boxes. The younger and more ambitious executives in the VIP boxes were busy exchanging cards—probably a target set by their bosses for the perks they were being provided.

  Maru and Umar were quite drunk as they hugged each other over stupid Santa Banta jokes. When one of the young executives approached them and tried to strike a conversation, Maru knew how to fend him off.

  “We will give you our cards only if you answer our three questions. All related to cricket! We want to know if you really deserve to sit in this box and enjoy the game meant for gentlemen like us,” said Maru.

  “Hear! Hear!” Umar cheered his drunk comrade Maru.

  “Okay. First question. Why do you bat so well when your finger is cut off? Second question is why do pest companies hate a leading cricket player and why? And last question is why do all aspiring wicket-keepers keep washing their knees on the ground? Your times starts now!”

  Maru and Umar laughed loudly, awaiting the answers. Their laughter had been stifled in the business class of the flight earlier. But here, their laughter blended with the noise in the stadium.

  “I give up,” said the young executive, who was clearly not prepared for such an interview.

  “That’s the problem with you young guys. You want the short cut always. No persistence! Okay, let me tell you the answers. Answer to first question is ‘Go-anguli’ – you know the famous royal Bengal tiger from Kolkata? Second answer is ‘We-rat’ – you know our famous cheetah from Delhi? And the third is pretty easy. It’s ‘Dho-knee’ – you know our famous lion from Ranchi?”

  While Umar and Maru rolled on the ground with laughter, the young executive made a hasty retreat from there. He stayed away from them for the rest of the game.

  Lina and Anil were sitting in the adjacent box, enjoying the hospitality of the Times Group. They noticed each other from the far corners of the box and even smiled at each other, but they did not have any conversation. Anil was busy talking to his friend Niraj who had seen him enter the box through one of the main gates where Niraj’s company was providing voluntary security services. Anil and Niraj were meeting for the first time after the plane crash.

  “Niraj, it’s been more than ten months now. And thankfully, we are still alive. I just hope Umar is well too. I also hope he is not around here. I get goose bumps at the thought of the three of us being together. That sadhu is not just a learned man, he is also an oracle,” said Anil.

  “Come on, Anil! Forget all that! In fact, we should have a celebratory first-year anniversary, the three of us.”

  “Well… Yes, why not? One year is good enough to become safe again. And I am sure the splits would not be meeting on that same day.”

  “Anil, just enjoy the splits of these beautiful cheer girls, will you?”

  They both burst into peals of laughter.

  Rajni had driven the parents of a leading star in the Bangalore team to the stadium. They had been so happy with her service that they gave her a complimentary pass in the gallery just on top of VIP box number twelve. Rajni was not a cricket lover, but she loved the excitement in the stadium. She loved the colourful clothes and flags, the rapturous beating of the drums and the magical Mexican waves of the crowd.

  “And, ladies and gentlemen! Something you have all been waiting for. Ramaaaaan… Khaannnaa…!” the announcer declared in an excited drawl.

  All eyes turned towards the platform in front of VIP boxes twelve and thirteen. The guests in the two boxes strained their heads out, from the partially covered glass enclosure, to catch the first glimpse of the superstar. They were also ready to catch the ball that was to be thrown by Ramaan. The person who caught the ball would get the opportunity to shake a leg with the superstar in the ground. Maru and Umar made a deal that if either of them caught the ball, one of them would get to keep the ball and the other one would get to dance with Ramaan. It was Maru’s idea. Maru was always ready to hedge and bet.

  Rajni, who was in the front seat of the gallery, wondered if she could make an effort to catch the ball if it was thrown a bit higher. Lina was right in the front and she too wanted to catch the ball, so that she could pass it on to her brother in the next box. They had met earlier in the afternoon at the dining area for VIP guests and had decided to fly back together the next day.

  Anil and Niraj were not too enthused about Ramaan’s performance.

  The eyes straining to catch a glimpse of their superstar soon saw a sudden downpour of unseasonal rain. The ground was drenched in a couple of minutes. The cheer girls and the ground staff ran for cover. The crowd waited. And waited. But the rain continued unabated. Soon the minutes extended to hours. Ramaan had an important appointment in Dubai early next morning and had to leave soon to catch a flight. The IPL organisers requested and pestered him to wait, but Ramaan could not oblige them. He left for the airport. The truncated match continued after an hour, but the performance of the superstar had to be cancelled. Duckworth Lewis was the only superstar that night.

  The next morning, as the newspapers arrived at the doors of millions of people, the headlines centred around IPL. But the match was not the news.

  Major terrorist attack at IPL averted thanks to rain

  The news story had just one small paragraph about the match. The rest of the article talked about how the rain had averted a possibly disastrous terror attack during the game. The terrorists had somehow managed to sneak in cricket balls planted with powerful bombs, much before the start of the game. The bombs were to be detonated by a remote device at the start of Ramaan Khanna’s performance. These ‘bomb’ balls were put in place of the balls that Ramaan was to throw towards the VIP boxes.

  Had everything gone according to the terrorists’ plan, it would have caused huge casualties in the two boxes and the galleries above and also on the platform where Ramaan was to perform. The intelligence bureau managed to save some face by catching one of the terrorists through phone intercepts. The terrorist revealed all the details of the plan, without any truncation like the match.

  18

  Lina Kapoor read the news article on the flight back to Delhi with Maru.

  “Looks like we were saved by nature, Maru.”

  “Yes, it’s eerie! But then I believe if it had to happen, it would have happened. And if it did not happen, it was not meant to happen.”

  “True… Unless it was meant to happen, but for some reason, it did not happen.”

  “Well, what was certainly meant to happen was an exciting game of cricket. And for reasons we all know, it did not happen. Let’s not talk about yesterday, Lina. Let’s talk about your future. Your IIM course.”

  Lina had enrolled for a week-long entrepreneurship course at IIM-Ahmedabad starting next week. She wanted to take a break from her hectic schedule for the past several months. She also wanted to meet people with a slightly higher IQ than her cooks and waiters. Deep in her heart, she also hoped to meet someone she could possibly consider a future with. She always had a slight ache in her heart every time she saw a happy, affectionate couple in her restaurant having dinner, holding each other’s hands and talking in whispers. Lina missed the touch of a man.

  “You better watch out, Maru! Once I am done with my course in IIM, I will be competition for you!”

  “I am sure you will. I will have to get you killed then!”

  “Shhh! I have just escaped death. Death’s messengers could be following us now. Don’t let them know your plans.”

  “Sorry Mr Death! It was just a joke.”

  The siblings burst into a childish laughter. Nobody else in the plane laughed.

  Lina reached IIM-Ahmedabad a day before her course was to start. She stayed at the single students’ accommodation, not very different from the accommodation she had had at Miranda. Life had taken a full circle and she was back to the starting point. The starting point of new hopes, new dreams and new desires for the future. She had never had any relationsh
ip at Miranda, but this time she was more open. She would not mind staying at the married students’ accommodation next time she came to the campus.

  Lina had an early lunch and walked around the campus, hardly asking for directions. She felt she knew the place and even some of the faces she saw on the campus. The gardener, an old man, smiled at her. The kind of smile not shared with strangers, but with someone you meet every day. As she walked along the pathway behind the faculty wing, with plants on both sides, a sparrow flew towards her from the window of a professor’s room. Lina put her hands on her face to avoid any collision with the determined sparrow. Fortunately for her, a student passing by shooed the sparrow away. “Sorry ma’am. I think you are new to the campus. This sparrow always sits on the window of this room, which belonged to one of our former professors who used to feed it bread crumbs every day. Professor Anil Saha. He was very popular among students too.”

  “Who? The sparrow?” Lina asked.

  “Yes, the sparrow and Professor Anil Saha!” The student smiled as he walked away.

  The campus was more than sixty acres of nature and natural brick structures coexisting in perfect harmony. Lina was tired by now and her legs ached. She decided to visit the library. There were a few students huddled around a sobbing girl. Lina went towards the group and asked a lanky boy why the girl was crying.

  “She just got a message that her brother died accidently as he was walking near a busy market area. A bull suddenly came out of nowhere and gored him to death.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad! I am so sorry for her. What’s her name?”

  “Diana.”

  “What a sweet name! And what a sweet girl. Was his brother’s name Anadi?” Lina asked instantly.

  “Of course not! We just tease her on campus about Anadi being her brother, after an incident with one of our professors earlier in the year.”

  “And where is Anadi now?” Lina was inquisitive.