An acrid stale stench that burnt nostrils followed him, with subtle undercurrents of betel leaves.
‘He should sign a deal with a French company to market this rancid perfume,’ Onni thought to himself between copying down Ques. 9 and Ques. 10 from the board.
Just then, another very signature tick-tock-tick of high-heeled shoes, almost like Ms. Clare’s, was heard in the corridor.
As everyone turned to look, Ms. D’Cruz
passed by.
‘Aap log yeh examination question paper sambhalo... Mai zara inko sambhalke aata hoon! ’ Besharam Sharma said and left the classroom.
Twenty-eight
T he tick-tock-tick of the wall clock was irritating
Onni.
The minute hand and the hour hand still had time before they met. Just like there was still time before Onni was supposed to meet KK. It was his fault that he had missed his regular late evening workout and arrived early here. So, he just looked around.
It was a quaint little restaurant. He had heard about it, but had never dropped in before. The place reminded him of Kerala. It almost felt that if he stepped out, Onni would find the typical backwaters stretching out right from the doorstep. He didn’t miss the very recognisable whiff of exotic incense sticks all around. As Onni studied the place, he realised that one of the waitresses, a lissom young lady draped in a gold and white sari, was noticing him too.
She had jet-black hair that was oiled well and tied into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. A thick gold chain (at least it appeared to be gold) gleamed against her coffee complexion. As he saw her, she started walking in his direction. In her hands she carried a tray with a tall glass. Onni casually looked away.
‘Welcome, Sir,’ she said to him. He turned
to find the same waitress standing next to his
table.
‘Hi... I’m waiting for somebody to join me...’ Onni replied.
‘You must be Mr. Deepjoy?’ she enquired much to Onni’s surprise.
‘Yes!’
The lady smiled and put the tall glass on his table. ‘Mr. KK called to say that he will be a little late. He is genuinely sorry and has requested you to relax.’ The colourless translucence of the drink told him that it was coconut water.
Onni just smiled. The lady then picked out an envelope from her tray and made it stand against the glass. There was a smile, and she left. He was very surprised.
The envelope had ‘Deepjoy’ scribbled on it. Onni picked it up. It was sealed with adhesive tape. ‘What’s in it? A cheque?’ Onni smiled as he tore it open. It was a neatly folded sheet of paper with a handwritten letter inside.
Dea r Deepjoy,
Putting pen to paper to write this has been very difficult. As you know, I’m not very good with words like you are! But this had to be done some day. I have chosen today.
I am sorry.
I am sorry for everything.
I am sorry for taking away everything from you.
I am sorry for not being man enough to tell you all of this myseslf and just writing and asking someone else to hand it to you instead.
You have filled me with immense pleasure, Deepjoy... And in return, I have given you nothing. On the contrary, I’ve snatched too much away from you.
Now, I cannot steal anymore... And hence I beg... Will you forgive me?
Onni looked up. Letting every sip of the cool coconut water drench his mind, he looked into the writing again. ‘Another client getting sentimental,’ he thought with a smirk.
#xa0;
You were there every time I needed somebody. Emotionally, mentally, physically... No person has ever done so much for me, and for so long.
Believe me, I’m not trying to cover up by writing all of this to you. I’m just letting you know a very important part... Something that has been eating me from inside. Chances are that I shall never ever see you again once you read this.
I did not meet you just that day when you were sitting heartbroken by the sea. I met you long before that.
Remember?
No, you don’t.
How will you? All you will remember are the chocolates I gave you… The chocolates I stole out of your Pootoo-Mashi’s trunk.
Onni could not believe what he just read. He kept the glass down on the table.
Mr. Kamath and KK started merging in his head.
He remembered that afternoon before Reshmi’s wedding. He was depressed; sprawled out on that bench by the seafront. He followed the elderly man’s gaze. ‘He’s not looking at me like a man looks at any other man. Is he somebody I know? Why does it feel like that? His glance is lingering a little too long...’ Onni could remember his thoughts and that meeting too well.
Onni now figured out why he faintly felt that he knew KK from long back.
Memories close and far made him realise that age, weight gain and hair loss had turned Mr. Kamath into KK.
You were not Deepjoy then. You were an innocent little boy called Onni. And I turned you into my toy for my selfish need. You know it all. You went through it, ashamed, without the world knowing about it. And it suited me just fine.
But try as I might, I cannot hide any more. I cannot cover the fact that I started it all that day when I took you to that small flat, climbing up the dark vile staircase. I used my hands to take what I wanted, for my pleasure. Sometimes you knew, sometimes you didn’t. Every time, I stripped your soul naked.
It’s very sad that then I got it with cunning. Today, I get it with money. I buy you and then use you to fill the void inside me.
Your broad shoulders were over me many times, Deepjoy… Something about the way you smile, something about the way you speak, these told me I have met you before. I used my associations to connect the dots and tried to find out. One day, I uncovered the link between Deepjoy and Onni.
I realised how bad I’d been.
Sometimes, when I think of my own child, I tremble thinking that somewhere in the world there might be a Mr. Kamath or a KK lurking in the shadows. There was nobody to protect you that day. Will there be anybody to shield my child from harm?
Onni was blank. The words just floated by. Nobody in the world could help or even stand by him.
The distrust, disgust, damage and dishonour that lay congealed inside him seeped out as tears.
#xa0;
I know, deep inside you are scarred. You knew me as the Mr. Kamath who shattered your trust. I then came back as KK and ended up causing even more mutilation. And nothing that I say or do now can ever stop the bleeding.
Goodbye, Onni. Farewell, Deepjoy.
I just can’t bring myself to face you anymore.
Apologetically,
- Mr. Kumaran Kamath (KK)
For very long, Onni just sat there. There was nothing to wait for. But still he just sat and searched around in the blank recesses of his mind.
It was like a book that someone had left open. The pages waited. But no one came back. The pages kept fluttering in the wind.
Finally, he got up. Onni folded the letter and put it inside the envelope. The envelope went into his pocket. Slipping a couple of notes under the unfinished glass of coconut water, he left.
Onni’s charismatic walk had changed.
Fifteen
‘S hould we walk away from all this noise and crowd? Change to some place that is nice and quiet?’ Arun and Onni asked Ayesha and Mahuaa.
‘What?’ was all that the two girls said in reply.
Onni and Arun looked at each other. The two then turned together to look scornfully at the giant speakers behind. Whatever the four said to each other had to be shouted out loudly or clearly and slowly, very close to the ears to make it remotely audible.
The thick blizzard of people around kept pushing them close and then
pulling them really far in turns. ‘I think we should hold hands...’ Onni suggested. Seeing the strange reaction in Ayesha’s eyes, Arun quickly added ‘Ayesha hold Mahuaa’s hand... And Onni hold mine.’ Everyone held everyone’s hands and the four huddled together, in the middle of the annual school funfair.
The posters said that the boys could bring friends and family to the fair. That was how the two young ladies had found their way in.
Throughout the day, all the boys in class bragged about the number of girls they would gallantly escort during the evening at the school funfair. Few lived up to their proud declarations. Some trickled in alone. Others did not turn up at all.
‘The 10 th Standard boys always get the best girls,’ the two friends had discussed once. ‘I’m telling you, it has something to do with being in Class X,’ Arun said.
‘Look at the crowd at Besharam Sharma’s private tutorials... It is full of those girls from the neighbouring girls’ school, wearing those short blue and white uniforms. Ohhh... For every guy, there are two babes!’ Onni observed. They had even thought of joining the same Hindi classes to be with that crowd.
That evening, while getting ready to go to the funfair, the boys took a little more time. Standing in front of the mirror, they secretly wished that they had a better growth of facial and chest hair. ‘Just another year and I’ll like what I have,’ Onni consoled himself. He looked quite dapper in his new jeans.
The ratio of oestrogen to testosterone at the funfair was always bad. And the lady teachers tried to balance it out by bringing along their out-of-shape, moustachioed daughters.
‘Mahuaa is looking really good. Really. And she has come to the school funfair just because I asked her... That means she must like me!’ the thoughts buzzed through Onni’s head. ‘I think I should get her some ice cream... Or maybe cotton candy? What would she prefer?’
‘Anything,’ was her answer.
The cotton candy was followed by the merry-go-round was followed by the Tunnel of Horror was followed by cold drinks were followed by the mini-train was followed by popsicles were followed by the Fist of Fire.
Onni won a mouth organ at the Fist of Fire stall. He could not play it to save his life. But Mahuaa was so proud of him.
Onni had put on the red boxing glove and hit the punching bag so hard that all the five bulbs on the Fist of Fire contraption went flashing. ‘He won this mouth organ and gave it to me!’ rehearsed Mahuaa. She would show it off in front of all the girls at her school the following week.
Arun was busy wooing Ayesha in a different way. They were both addicted to the merry-go-round. The young boy did not know whether the butterflies in his stomach were due to the constant vertical revolutions or Ayesha holding him really close during those vertical revolutions. Both came out of the last ride quite zapped and did not talk too much for the rest of the evening.
With whatever money the two boys had left, they decided to drop the girls home in a taxi. ‘Don’t fret, we’ll go back home in the same taxi,’ Arun assured them. Onni stood by him. ‘Promise!’ he added.
‘See you, Onni!’ Mahuaa waved.
‘Bye bye, Arun...’ Ayesha said.
That is where it stopped. What happened was different from what they had seen in English films and read in all the novels. There was no hugging or kissing or fondling. The ‘See you, Onni!’ and the ‘Bye bye, Arun...’ was where the evening ended.
‘Let’s go by train,’ the two decided. Both Onni and Arun knew that with the few coins left rolling in their pockets that is all they could afford. The walk up and across the bridge to the station would take ten minutes longer than running across the road, jumping across the divider and then over the low wall next to the railway tracks. Unable to contain their newly burgeoning machismo, the two boys decided to take the second option.
‘So, did Mahuaa say ‘yes’ to you?’ Arun asked Onni.
‘She came to the funfair... Which is a ‘yes’’, Onni replied.
‘Hmmm... I think then Ayesha also is ready to be my girlfriend,’ Arun deduced.
‘Everybody at school also saw both of us together today. So…’ Onni shrugged.
The two friends were deep in discussion as they ran across the road to the footpath. Heady, fragrant wisps of perfumed air blew past as they walked. Both took in deep breaths and kept walking, still talking.
‘Will you speak to her tomorrow?’ Arun asked.
‘I don’t know. Mahuaa asked me to call her when we were dropping her home.’
‘Which means, she...’
That sentence was interrupted by a surreal presence poised a few feet away.
A shimmering blue sari covered her curvaceous body. It was coupled with a very low black blouse. The lady’s hand held a small purse. Her neck was devoid of any ornamentation, showing off her skin, her collar bones and deep cleavage. With a very pronounced gait, the lady walked a short distance, turned and walked back again. She did this a couple of times, before looking out on the road. Her kohl-lined eyes were pregnant with anticipation.
As the two boys neared her, they desperately wanted to look but kept their gaze averted.
Unable to resist, Onni shot a glance in her direction... From her feet up, right into her eyes. Her blood-red lipstick made her pout even more pronounced. One could tell that she was there selling her wares – her body.
‘That lady was attractive… Utterly incapable of doing anything inelegant…’ Onni decided in his head for himself as they walked by.
‘Mere saath chalo, na. Yaa phir tum dono dandiya khelne jaa rahe ho?’ her voice trailed. And then she broke into a bout of hysterical laughter. The two boys didn’t understand what she meant and looked at her.
She stopped and stared deep into their eyes. Without any warning, she blew them both flying kisses and winked. The embarrassed men-in-the-making looked away and walked faster towards the nearby railway platform.
The monotonous voice of a bored announcer declared the scheduled arrival of the next local train.
But nothing could take Onni’s thoughts away from the good time he just shared with Mahuaa. He and Arun, fuelled by their pounding boyman-blood, had thought that the evening would have ended differently. The fleeting and abashed physical contacts that happened thoughtlessly in the crowd had left steaming impacts on the young shavers’ minds and their bodies.
‘Mahuaa must have slept off by now, her cascading hair on her pillow. How long will it be before that lady in the blue sari gets to fall asleep?’ Onni thought as he turned towards Arun. His best friend’s eyes looked ready to shut shop for the day.
Onni didn’t stop the fluid thoughts in his mind. There were disconnected flashes of the blue sari-clad lady too. Casually, he turned to see her.
A little away on the street where the boys had just crossed her path, she was bending at the window of a halted car. She seemed to be talking to someone in it. Onni wished he could hear them. Instead, very noisily, a local train sped in on the tracks. It stopped and the two boys jumped in. The compartment was almost empty at this hour.
As the train left, Onni looked out of the window. At a distance, he could see the lady in the shiny blue sari. The car with the possible customer was gone. She was still waiting there under the street lamp, all alone.
With the sound of the train growing louder, a strange melancholic stream flowed in Onni’s mind. ‘Aren’t we all the same?’
He kept staring at the tracks. From one to countless, they all formed a crowded maze. Diverging, crossing, turning away, coming closer, joining, dividing... There were so many. Yet, each rail seemed perfectly lonely.
Arun had dosed off. Just staring on at the tracks, Onni waited in silence for their station.
Twenty-nine
O
nni waited, staring at his keypad.
‘Life was never this cumbersome when ther
e was no email. Yeah, I remember clearly. No IDs to learn by heart, no passwords to set; it was all so good when I was in school,’ he thought.
Those long afternoons were sometimes spent writing verbose letters to old Dadus and Didas, Jethus and Baromas, Kakus and Kakimas. Sometimes he even made little sketches and sent them across... When the envelopes opened, they could smell the watercolours. Or touch his fingerprints on the sides. ‘Life was so... So alive,’ he lamented aloud as the e-mailed attachments slowly downloaded in to a little yellow folder on his desktop.
Just then, like a cloud slowly drifting in and marring a bright, sunny day, a gloomy thought occurred to Onni. It was about Mr. Kamath and about him turning into KK. ‘Why did that chapter happen in the middle?’ he questioned in his head. Was there an answer? He did not know.
‘You haven’t answered yet, Onni... Have you fed the fish?’ a voice jolted him back to the present.
Without looking he could tell that it was Koel. He turned to see her.
She was standing next to the large fish tank and peering in. Onni smiled and remembered that he had forgotten to do his daily duty – feeding the goldfish in the aquarium that he had set up in this agency when he had joined some months ago.
‘Will you please drop in some pellets, Koel? Those pampered and overfed goldfish must be really starving today. They must be cursing me.’
‘Oh... They love you. Ever seen how they all get excited and zip around faster when you come close? I think they are all female, what say?’
Onni just smiled back. He remembered the time when he had wept like a baby when his first goldfish had died. He remembered the time when he used to scour the city’s fish stores for the most exotic-looking goldfish. He remembered his partner in all of his fish-quests. He remembered Arun.
‘Here are a few pictures that have come across from some model co-ordinator. See them if you need better talent,’ Koel said as she left a file on Onni’s desk.
‘Why can’t I cast you in my next commercial?’ Onni asked without looking away from his laptop. ‘You’ll be good in this script I’m writing for a brand of tyres.’
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