123 Tomorrows

by Vaibhav Thakur

  Harsha Bhogle’s eternally jovial face appeared on the screen.

  “Indeed, a fantastic day for cricket fans, Ravi! The Pakistani side kept everyone on the edge. It’s a difficult chase for India but as long as this man is at the crease, nothing is impossible. This man, Virat Kohli, the Indian captain has decided to take things in his hands and open the innings. His intentions are pretty clear, Ravi, and all forty-five thousand fans here in fully-packed stadium expect no less. But one thing is certain Ravi, there will be fireworks today at the Firozshah Kotla Stadium.”

  “...and fireworks it is Harsha. A little short ball by Junaid and Kohli has hooked it, it’s in the air but it will clear the fielder at the deep square leg by a mile. It’s a six! The first ball of the match and Virat Kohli is on the proceedings right away. What a playeh’.”

  People around me cheered and clapped, joining thousands on the television screen. In the last few minutes, the crowd had swelled to a mini stadium.

  “The deafening noise has erupted in the stadium. And looks like all this hitting has made the batsmen thirsty as a drinks cart is rolling onto the ground in the first over itself. This promises to be a great game ahead, Ravi, let’s see—" Beop.

  The reception went down abruptly with a beep. There were some grunts and hoots from the crowd. After some minutes of hopeful but impatient waiting, the gathering started to fizzle out. I hung around for a while and was planning to leave when Rahim Chacha spotted me.

  “Hey! Iqbal. Didn’t see you there. Come in,” he said, closing his newspaper.

  Sitting behind the cash counter, Rahim chacha was draped in his usual spotless white Kurta and his neat skullcap. Most of his round face was covered with a well-kempt beard with equal share of black and white.

  “I haven’t seen you in a long time. How are you, son?” He folded his black-rimmed reading glasses and asked me to sit.

  “I am good, Chacha, just boosting my business.” I opened my fist and showed him left-over nails from my recent endeavour.

  He shook his head in disapproval. “This man will never understand. This is not a godly way to do business. And he still drinks, doesn’t he?” he said and continued without waiting for my reply. “He has gone into a terrible company I tell you. I met him at the mosque last jumma and he looked miserable. I told him to change his ways, but he wouldn’t listen. I hope he doesn’t trouble you much,” he said with a hint of doubt in his tone. “You come right back to me if he creates any ruckus, all right?”

  I nodded.

  “Anyway, let’s not talk about that bugger. I have something for you.”

  He turned around in his swivelling chair and pulled out a stainless-steel box from his lunch bag.

  “There, your Chachi made this at home,” he said while handing me one laddoo from his lunch box. “I saved one for you.”

  “These look yummy.” I took one gigantic bite of the laddoo. “Tfank You,” I said with a stuffed mouth.

  “Well, let me tell you a secret. These laddoos were the reason I married your chachi.” Rahim Chacha burst into a hearty laugh reminiscing his love story for a millionth time. I didn’t mind listening to it again and I liked how his eyes glinted with memories of his youth.

  “By the way, Chacha,” I said still swallowing the last bit of delicious laddoo. “What happened to your TV?”

  “TV is fine. That damn reception is the problem,” he said pointing at the sky.

  And sure enough, as if on cue, the screen came back to life as abruptly as it had gone off. However, the imagery had changed entirely; instead of a loud and action-packed stadium, there was now a drab news desk with a plain white background. There wasn’t even a logo of the channel. A news presenter with an uncomfortable stillness around her started speaking in a monotone.

  “This is an emergency broadcast. I repeat, this is an emergency broadcast. Fifteen minutes ago, there was a bomb explosion in Delhi. Unofficial eyewitnesses from as far as Agra have reported seeing a mushroom cloud in the direction of the capital. A nationwide curfew has been imposed effective immediately. All citizens are requested to remain calm and return to their homes. Leaves of all military personnel stand cancelled and are required to report to their command immediately. Keep tuned in for further updates.”

  There was an eerie silence and for a moment everything stood still. Bomb explosion? Mushroom cloud? Curfew? Mushroom cloud that could be seen from hundreds of kilometres away meant that explosion had to be devastating. In disbelief, I turned towards Rahim Chacha who was still staring at the blank screen with his mouth hung open. “Ya Allah!” he said in great despair and collapsed in his chair. I shook him by his arm and gave him a glass of water. At last, he said in a trembling voice, “I… I am okay now. Iqbal, you must head back to your place. Will you be alright?”

  My mind went back to my savings box and my life’s worth of eight hundred seventy-five rupees. It should be able to sail me through the curfew. I nodded and helped Rahim Chacha carry his displays inside the shop. When he pulled the shutter down, I saw a rare look of helplessness on his face.

  In the meantime, panic had descended upon the otherwise serene chowk. Everything was in mayhem. People were scrambling to hail buses and autos to get back home before the curfew hit, shopkeepers slammed down their shutters while some miscreants were trying to break into houses and shops to take advantage of the situation. I hastened to New Bangalore Bicycle Repair where Yusuf bhai was removing the iron hooks to lower the canopy of the shop.

  “Where were you goofing around?” he fumed. “I had to do all the work myself… now make yourself useful unless you want to spend the curfew locked inside.”

  There was no time to think. I hurried inside the shop where a disaster awaited me. The place was rummaged – all kinds of bicycle parts from tires to small bolts were thrown on the floor in a haphazard manner; oil dispensers were dripping profusely with thick black oil. But my heart sank as I noticed an empty slot in the wall. My box with all my savings was gone. After couple of minutes of frantic searching through the rubbish, I found it lying on the floor stained with black oil, but completely emptied. Yusuf Bhai! It was Yusuf bhai’s doing.

  For years, I tolerated all the pain and suffered through all kinds of abuses hoping that one day that box would be my liberation, but that one thing was robbed from me. And only one man responsible for it. Emotions surfaced… sadness, anger… that feeling of injustice that I hadn’t felt since… since my last day, that day, at the Shantiniketan orphanage.

  But none of my anger was of any use against Yusuf bhai. I couldn’t fight that mad dog even if I wanted to. I controlled my anger and went outside to face him. “Bhai, please give me some money,” I pleaded. “I was saving that for years. I need that money now.”

  He looked at me menacingly. “You bastard... some balls you have. I was living in misery for days while you were sitting on these.” He took a handful of my money out from his pocket and waved it at my face. “I gave you a roof and a job and this is how you repay me. You thief.”

  “I didn’t steal a single rupee from you, Yusuf bhai.” Tears rolled out on my cheeks. “I saved it. All of it. You can keep some of it, but please give me the rest.”

  “Look at you. Once a beggar, always a beggar,” he grunted.

  My fists tightened… a murderous rage wanted to take over me. But before my body could act, Yusuf bhai sensed something amiss and hurriedly picked up his bicycle and went off with stuffed pockets.

  That scum was probably heading to buy some booze before the curfew. But there wasn’t time to sulk. The situation had deteriorated drastically in the past forty minutes. A palpable tension was building up on the street and I needed to get some rations. Maybe I could go back to Rahim Chacha and…What was that? At distance, something small came loose out of Yusuf bhai’s pocket and fell to the ground. Oblivious, he continued to cycle away. I quickly bolted to the spot and… I couldn’t believe my luck. There it was – a bundle of notes that was taken… no… snatched from me. I wiped m
y tears and kissed my lifeline. It was there - all of it.

  That was some serendipity. I sighed with relief. Now, I just needed to buy some food and get to safety. Most of the establishments were closed. There were still a lot of confused people on the streets either trying to reach their home or trying to get rations. However, the chaos presented a perfect opportunity to many thieves and robbers. I saw some guys, their faces covered, trying to break into one of the jewellery shops on the street. One of the guys looked at me and I quickly turned my stare away.

  At distance, in the noise of multiple police sirens, mobile PA units blared – “Attention, attention, attention. Citizens, a curfew is in force. Please clear the streets and calmly proceed to your homes. No exceptions. We have shoot-at-sight orders. Please cooperate with us. Anyone engaging in any unlawful activity will be shot without warning. Attention, attention, attention. Citizens, a curfew is in force...” the message repeated over.

  I rushed to the nearest mart. It was closed but that hadn’t stopped the people from forcing their way in by cutting through the glass window. Reluctantly, I climbed in. Inside, it was a free-for-all madness. People were pushing, snatching, and hitting each other over loaves of bread and bottled water. Blood streamed down some faces as they filled their carts. Two women swung knives at each other to claim the last supplies of baby food. And just when I thought that it couldn’t become worse, I saw a couple of guys stepping in the mart with guns in their hands with a murderous look on their faces.

  It’s going to be a shitstorm around here. I needed to get out. Fast.

  I grabbed as whatever I could from the nearest shelf and sneaked out at the first opportunity. There were gun-shots and mortal screams behind me as soon as I had escaped. But it was too soon to call it home. As I came onto a bylane, a horde of people were aggressively yelling and pushing to get to the medical store. The helpless shopkeeper pleaded to maintain calm, but his words were drowned out by the agitated crowd. And then that idiot then tried to pull down the shutters. There was no way that could’ve gone well for him. One of the larger guys jumped across the counter and hit him with a hockey stick, and the shopkeeper fell to the floor like a rock. A wave of madness gripped the crowd and frenzied people began plundering anything they could lay their hands on.

  I turned to my right and started walking briskly in the other direction. But of course, my bad luck, like always, found its way along. A police van appeared on the other side of the street, and bunch of policemen stepped out. One of them, who was in his riot gear, came forward and blurted into a loudspeaker. “Citizens. A curfew is in place. Don’t take the law into your hands. Go back to your homes. This is your last warning.”

  The threats from the police only fuelled the anger of the crowd. And when the collective wrath of a crowd was incensed, it became a faceless but dangerous mob. The police tried fending off the rioters with tear gas shells, but it didn’t work. Seeing themselves grossly outnumbered, police soon resorted to deadlier weapons.

  All this time, I was stuck between the angry mob on one side of the street and the police on the other. I needed to think. I took a deep breath. First, I needed a cover to shield myself from both the sides. Rioters have graduated from throwing stones to crude petrol bombs and police fired bullets in retaliation. Damn… if I remained here, sooner or later I was bound to get hit by something. I looked around for some cover. There was an abandoned car 20-feet away on the other side of the road. Keeping low, I swiftly moved towards it. Bullets flew past me making a whizzing sound, I barely managed to reach the safety of the car. As I crouched behind the car, the metal clanged incessantly against the stray bullets. I wondered if the car’s body was thick enough to withstand the constant barrage, but it held for the time being. Unfortunately, that was no protection against petrol bombs. I needed to find a way out of this mess. I looked around my surroundings. The street was narrow and closely packed houses left no exits except the ones occupied by police and rioters. Maybe I could climb up to one of the houses using the drain pipes.

  But before I could act, something across the street drew my attention through smoke and fire. There was something… no someone… a frightened girl crouched to the ground in a small niche in the wall. She tried to cover her ears with her hands as bullets flew past her. SHAZIA! It was Shazia. And she was scared… I needed to do something, fast—gathering all my courage and murmuring my prayers, I dashed towards her. What happened then, happened in a flash. A misguided petrol bomb landed near Shazia turning that section of the street into an inferno; a moment later a bullet found its way to my right shoulder and I crashed to the ground writhing in pain.

  “Iqbaaaal,” she cried.

  I saw a fear of death in her deep blue eyes. I could never forget that sight. Her eyes were screaming for help as a wall of fire stood between us. I tried to stand but a sharp pain shot through my body. Suddenly a strong arm gripped me from behind and a handkerchief covered my nose and mouth. A strong stingy smell entered my nose and an overpowering urge to sleep came over me. I tried to fight it off, but unsuccessfully. Soon, my body gave up and everything started disappearing. Summoning every last drop of my willpower and strength in a desperate attempt to break free, a helpless scream came out of my throat.... Shaziaaaaaa!! The last thing that I remembered before losing my consciousness was Shazia crying for help as the flames engulfed her.

  ###

  It looked like a dream. It felt like a dream.

  I was lying on my back. Cold and darkness surrounded me, but I could sense the presence of people. Watching me.

  I opened my eyes with an effort, but I could only make out the faint, shadowy outlines of those people.

  “Is it really Project Möbius?” asked a woman.

  “He is. We track our assets very closely,” replied a man wearing a hat.

  “Can he hear us?”

  “Maybe. We are not sure.”

  “Then how do we tell him what to do?”

  “He will know.”

  “How?”

  “I said he WILL know, Professor. How long does he have?”

  “That’s difficult to say. There are too many variables. These equations tend to get complicated and I can only tell the probabilities. An Einstein-Rosen bridge of this size is kept open with a massive amount of negative energy and it gets increasingly unstable with usage….”

  “English, Professor,” the man in the hat quipped.

  “Right… ummm... well, let me see,” Professor said. “We are pushing against the laws of nature and it is trying everything to stop us. He can jump maybe a hundred... or two hundred times. But every jump will take a toll on him physically. He also might lose control or worse, his sanity, if he does it too many times.”

  “Are you saying that he might get lost?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Well, that’s a risk we must take. Let’s activate Project Möbius.”

  Someone walked closer to me… the man in the hat… his face was a blur… like everything else and his voice was hoarse… but his words were clear.

  “Stop the bomb, Iqbal. Stop the bomb.”

  There was a thump on my chest. And then, I felt squeezed from all sides. I was falling from the sky and then got caught into a raging tornado. I was dropping right in the middle of the eye. I rotated within the tornado and I could feel crazy winds roughing against my face. I opened my mouth to scream.

  And then, I woke up. Eight hours back.

  ###

  “History might repeat itself”

  – A Time Traveller’s Diary

  Tomorrow #2

  Time: 8 AM (5 hours to the blast)

  Date: 20th June 2020

  Place: New Bangalore Bicycle Repair Shop

  “Wake up, you bastard,” Yusuf bhai thundered, as he planted a tight slap across my face.

  “NO... NO... LET ME GO,” I screamed and gasped like a man who had just been woken from a deep sleep.

  Yusuf bhai’s nostrils flared. “You wish, you son-of-a-bitch.” His h
and swung into action, and I flew several feet from the stool. “And next time I see you dozing off at work, you are going to get a handful of this.” He pointed at the tubes hanging from the roof.

  What’s happening? What day is it? There were no signs of riots on the street. Did I just have a bad dream? I remembered that I was hit by a bullet. I pulled down my shirt. No sign of any injury on the shoulder. What was I expecting? Of course, it was all a dream. A surreal and vivid as it was, but only a dream still.

  “Now get your ass moving. Customers are waiting for his highness to wake up. If I see even one of them leaving the shop without being attended—”

  I was still in a daze when my lips involuntarily filled the next few words to my own surprise, “—you are going to wish that you were never born.”

  Yusuf bhai stopped in his tracks. “What did you just say?” He asked, his eyes wide.

  “N... Nothing Yusuf bhai... I’ll just attend to the customers...”

  Outside, there was that group of schoolboys exactly where I remembered.

  “What happened to your face?” said one at the precise moment.

  “Looks like you were flattened by the road roller,” said another. A familiar laughter followed.

  I remembered replying to them. But this time I chose not to, my head spinning with questions like splinters stuck in a tornado.

  Why do I remember this? All of this? Is this real? Or am I hallucinating? Was it really a dream that I just saw? What explains this incredible amount of coincidence? Or am I still dreaming, and the dream is repeating itself?

  Penetrating through the fogginess in my head, came a heavenly voice, “Oh my God, Iqbal! Look at you. Are you ok?”

  “Shazia!” I nearly knocked over some of the bicycles with excitement. All the pain in my body and doubts in my mind dissolved upon hearing her voice. She was before me, unharmed by my dreams, her deep eyes searching me to understand the cause of my euphoria. I wanted to hug her right there.