by Savi Sharma
‘I’ll miss you, Vivaan.’ She leaned against me even harder, squeezing my arms possessively.
‘You know I’ll miss you too,’ I responded. ‘I’ll be in touch every night and I’ll text you after we leave to let you know how things are going.’
‘Perfect,’ she murmured. ‘Oh! I almost forgot!’
Meera darted out of my arms, spinning around to face me as she pulled something out of her bag.
I smiled. ‘A gift?’
‘It’s nothing much,’ she said dismissively. ‘But I wanted to give you something to commemorate your first trip.’
I slid off the ribbon and tore off the wrapping paper. There, in a small box, was a beautiful, heavy, navy blue pen. I pried it out of the cushioning and examined it. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, touched. On one side of the pen, my name was engraved in steel grey letters. On the other side was our company’s name. Musafir.
‘The perfect travelling instrument for my traveller,’ she said.
‘Thank you so much,’ I breathed and hugged her once more. ‘It is perfect,’ I confirmed, leaning down to kiss her soft lips.
We were still sharing that amazing kiss when I heard the rumbling of a diesel engine driving by the office slowly. I broke the kiss and grinned down at Meera. ‘I believe our chariot has arrived!’ I looked up and, sure enough, the tour bus was just pulling in.
Realizing that I was still holding the pen, I rushed back to my desk, deposited the box on top of my desk and took out my soft briefcase. I took out the disposable pen that I had already put in the pen holder and slid my gift in its place. I quickly slid my paperwork back into the satchel and zipped it closed.
‘It’s show time,’ I said, just as our driver pushed open the door.
‘Dev Sarthi at your service,’ the small, white-haired man said, introducing himself to Meera before giving me a mock salute. ‘The bus is full of diesel and we are ready to go.’ He laughed a giant, bubbly laugh.
We shared a chuckle as I reached out and shook his hand before introducing Meera. ‘This is my. . . .’ I broke off. For a fleeting moment, I wished I could introduce her as my fiancée, but . . . not yet. ‘This is my girlfriend,’ I said. Inwardly, I frowned. That title was so inadequate.
Dev’s chatter broke any discomfort I felt, and we quickly transitioned into last-minute details.
We were just wrapping up when the clients arrived. First, a couple, then a single older woman, and then the rest of the group came in all at once, with a jumble of conversation and baggage.
It took a little time to sort out the suitcases. Looking at all the similar ones, I was glad one of my staff members had suggested that we purchase reusable luggage tags in bright colours and print the Musafir logo on one side. It would make it easier to identify which bag belongs to whom, and it also gave them something to use for future travels. Hopefully, the logo would catch the attention of other travellers, who would contact us and join one of our tour groups.
I took a quick roll call as we loaded up on the bus. I had placed my bag on one of the front seats, so nobody would sit there, and Karan, my trusted sidekick at Musafir, sat beside me.
Frowning, I realised one person was missing. ‘Does anybody know Shridhar Laghari?’ I asked the group. Our fellow travellers looked from one to the other, but everyone shook their heads slowly. I stepped on the bus to pull out my satchel once again to locate his phone number. Just then, I heard a car’s engine downshifting quickly and a red sports car squealed into the parking lot.
‘I’m guessing this is our elusive guest,’ Dev said dryly.
A tall man jumped out of the car and waved enthusiastically. ‘So sorry I’m late!’ he called across the parking lot as he trotted to the back of the car and pulled out his bag. ‘Thanks for waiting!’
I looked him over with a slightly annoyed eye, trying to size him up. Hopefully, he wouldn’t make it a habit of being late throughout the trip. Meera caught my eye and smiled broadly; my cue to lighten my own facial expression. He is a paying customer, after all. I put on what Meera called my ‘banker’s smile’. . . perhaps not as genuine as it could have been, but it was the best I could muster at the moment.
‘You just made it,’ I said, trying to keep my annoyance out of my tone. A quick glance to Meera proved I wasn’t quite successful. Oh well, it was best that he is aware that we are on a schedule , I thought.
‘Perfect!’ he said, ignoring the censorious timbre of my voice.
Meera had already written out his name tag and handed it me silently. I watched Shridhar sizing her up and, for one brief moment, was glad she wasn’t going on the trip. I didn’t care for the way he was looking at her.
‘Your larger bag will have to go into the hold,’ I said, handing him the tag. He looked worried for a quick second; a look that was gone as quickly as it had appeared on his face.
‘This bag has my laptop though,’ he said. ‘I can keep that with me, right?’
I nodded. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Very good,’ he said, climbing on to the bus.
I started to say goodbye to Meera once more when I noticed that Shridhar had a funny look on his face. ‘Is anything wrong?’ I asked him.
He trotted back down the steps and whispered, ‘I get motion sickness sometimes. I’m not sure the back of the bus would be a good place for me.’
I felt a wave of pity for the man; after all, he looked so vulnerable for a moment. ‘Okay,’ I said and climbed back on the bus. I looked at all the empty seats near the front of the bus, but the logical solution was to ask Karan to move back. Luckily, he was happy to accommodate my request, and Shridhar took the now-empty seat beside me, moving my satchel to the aisle seat.
This might be a long trip , I thought to myself.
I hugged Meera goodbye one last time and climbed the bus again. Dev closed the doors behind me and I felt the wash of air conditioning envelop me. I hadn’t realised how hot I was, and I gave him a quick nod in thanks.
After a few last-minute instructions, I let them know where our first stop would be. ‘There is a restaurant there,’ I said. ‘We can have a quick bite to eat, but it will be a few hours. You all had breakfast already, right?’ I saw enough nods to satisfy my concern.
Finally, the bus pulled away from the curb and I leaned around my seat companion to wave to Meera. It might have been rude, but the man did take my seat, after all.
Fortunately, Shridhar turned out to be a decent travelling companion, chatting happily about his life and reasons for taking this trip. Despite his rocky start, I was starting to enjoy the guy.
At our first stop, he was gracious to the other passengers, and I could see them softening towards him as well. I sent a quick text to Meera, knowing she was probably concerned about the rocky departure. She responded within a minute and I knew she must have been watching her phone, waiting for me to reach out.
The rest of the day went smoothly, and I almost felt a sense of euphoria as I sat back, mulling over the amazement that my dream was coming true. My future was unfolding in front of me, spreading her arms to welcome me into this new chapter of my life.
We were at a petrol pump, fuelling up the bus near the Gujarat-Rajasthan border. It was a quick stop, so I asked people to stay on the bus, so we could push through the last few hours before we stopped for the night. We had already eaten our meal and as Dev climbed off the bus, I stood and looked over my guests. Everyone was reclining comfortably in their seats, satiated by a fantastic dinner and happy to have their hard-earned vacation in front of them.
‘Boss,’ Dev called through the door. ‘We have company.’
I crouched and looked out the window, taking in the two police officers approaching the bus. I wasn’t surprised; my contacts had told me that in this area, the authorities often checked vehicles to make sure there were no problems. I wasn’t worried; guards at the Gujarat–Rajasthan border had already checked our bus. Nothing could have changed after we left the border.
I pulled my satche
l from the floor, set it on the seat and opened it to take out the necessary paperwork, identifying my company and my passengers. I wasn’t sure what they might ask for, but I wasn’t concerned. My staff had made sure I had all the proper certification in an event such as this.
Pulling out my pen, I took that and the paperwork and climbed down the steps to greet the police officers. They were amicable enough, and I invited them on to the bus to talk to our passengers before they even asked.
Standing outside with Dev, I let the officers check everyone’s identification and check bags.
My first sense that something was wrong was when one of the officers left the bus with my satchel in his hand. ‘Is this yours, sir?’ he asked in a serious tone.
Immediately, I began to get nervous. I knew it was foolish, because I had nothing to hide. But the look on his face told me a problem was imminent. My mind was racing. What could he have thought he found? ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Is there a. . .’
‘Come with me,’ he said forcibly.
We walked to the police car together, his hand firmly clutching my arm.
At first, I was completely numb when he reached into my bag with a gloved hand and pulled out a package. ‘What is that?’ I asked stupidly.
‘I’d like you to tell me,’ he said.
I shook my head slowly. ‘I have no idea what this is,’ I said. ‘I’ve never seen that before.’
He barked a sharp laugh, more of a snort, and my stomach turned over as realisation came over me in waves of disbelief, terror, and helplessness.
Still, there was a feeling of disconnect as I was loaded into the police car and driven to the police station. The feeling that I was watching a bad movie continued as I was booked for drug possession. It made me sick to think of the PR this would garner in the papers. It would be bad. Very bad.
Who could have done this? I frowned, mentally going over my passenger list. Who would have wanted to hurt me like this?
I sat on the hard, concrete bench in the jail, staring at the wire-covered lightbulb until my eyes burned. Around me, I heard people yelling, but I didn’t hear words. All I could hear was my own voice asking, ‘Why?’
Finally, I was allowed to call Meera. Tears were streaming down my face when I told her what the police found.
Musafir wasn’t even twenty-four hours old and all my dreams had come to a screeching halt.
15
FATE
I bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?
Neither did Vivaan.
Did you honestly think those drugs were his? Unfortunately, for him, the police did. So did a lot of other people.
Remember Shridhar? Perhaps it would have been better for everyone if he had missed the bus. The drugs were his! When Vivaan left the bus to talk to the police, Shridhar slipped his drugs into Vivaan’s bag.
You see, before you rejoin this little story, let me have the pleasure of telling you that Vivaan’s company folded, and he had to lay off his employees. I loved seeing the pain in his eyes when he told his staff they lost their jobs. He had to refund the money for the failed trip and he couldn’t even pay them for the time they put in.
His faithful Meera did come the next day to bail him out of jail. She didn’t scold or question him, even though she had a million questions. But he had no answers for her.
How sad.
But you have to admit, it’s amazing how I can turn the tables so quickly. I’m sure you think I’m done with them, and I’m going to put them back on their silly, happily-ever-after path.
You may be forced to wrestle with the truth or fight to get what you want in life, but that doesn’t mean that you can be labeled a fighter.
Nothing remains the same. The person you said goodbye to in the morning will be slightly different in the evening. That is the way life moves on.
We all lose something. We lose loved ones, we lose opportunities. We can’t get these things back, but that is part of life. It is difficult to lose, but there is no one in the world who can win everything, always.
No matter how contented you are in life, change is inevitable. You can’t predict where or when it’s going to happen and no matter how systematically careful you are in planning out your life, you can’t live in a bubble without outside influences.
It’s those influences that push and pull at you. Sometimes, they create possibilities; other times, they create strife.
I’m not going to lie to you. I love it when things go off track. No matter how smooth the road is, there are obstacles. There are animals that dart out in front of your car and you have to crank on the steering wheel to miss them. Sometimes it ends well for you and that animal; other times, you have a destroyed car.
It happens so fast, you can’t predict the outcome. You can’t predict if you’re going to come out unscathed, or if you will end up with a broken car and a smashed animal. Yuck.
But that is what life is all about! It’s about those split decisions! It’s about reaction times and moving quickly and making decisions in a heartbeat that may impact the rest of your life.
Take it from me, though. Never, ever say, ‘Life can’t get any worse.’ Because it can.
16
MEERA
Since the day Vivaan left for his first trip, I woke up every single morning with a burning pit in my stomach. Before my eyes even opened, I saw a vision of my dear boyfriend, staggering out from the police station after I bailed him out.
Seeing him that way nearly broke my heart, a heart that had its share of kicks lately. First Kabir’s injury, and losing his beloved café. Then, Vivaan and the drug fine.
Fortunately, I was able to access the money in my bank quickly since a substantial royalty cheque had just arrived a few days ago.
If there is anything positive about the situation, it’s that the drugs in his bag were less than ten grams, so he only had to pay a fine instead of serving jail time. After the stories that he told me about his night in prison, I was thankful that he wasn’t found with more drugs, which would have been a non-bailable offense. But that was little consolation when I saw this ghost of a man after he was arrested.
At the police station, part of me wanted to beat his chest with clenched fists. How could he allow something like this to happen? He was so excited about starting Musafir. . . how could he leave any little thing to chance?
But as I drove through the night to reach Vivaan where he had been arrested, I knew that wasn’t fair. His dream was shattered. As the darkness pressed on my car in the early morning hours, I gave myself permission to sort through all these feelings. I was furious with him for a while. Then I was scared.
My car was rolling into the police station parking lot when I resigned myself to whatever fate might be handing us.
I sat behind my steering wheel for a few more minutes. I was anxious to get Vivaan out of that horrible place, but I needed to make sure my own emotions were in place before I saw him. The last thing I wanted to do when I saw him was burst into tears.
Steeling myself, I pulled out my purse and systematically counted the money to make sure I had the right amount. I didn’t want to stay there any longer than I had to. I was determined to go in, pay the money, and wait for Vivaan to be brought out to me.
A few tears snuck out after we finally left the police station. In the car, Vivaan leaned his tousled head against the seat and closed his eyes for a second. I could sense that he wanted to look at me, but he couldn’t. Instead, he blindly reached out and took my hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
We drove back to Pune in silence. He was lost in his thoughts and I turned my mind to my book. I had written about half of it, when the thoughts just stopped flowing. They dried up like a stream under the hot sun.
I was trying not to panic, but between what happened with Kabir and then helping Vivaan get Musafir started, I had already lost precious time working on my book. This despite Aashi helping out the whole time, either with my work or with my friends, so I could
focus on writing, which was a struggle. Now, I knew I would have to turn in a full manuscript in three months, and there was simply nothing in my mind. I just couldn’t make the words come out, and when they did, they sounded empty, hollow.
All these things played out in my head every morning before I got out of bed. I wondered if these memories were just lying in wait every night, just waiting for my defences to be down. Waiting to nudge themselves past my dreams and taint every morning.
We barely talked about that horrible day. Aside from the time that we spoke with Nisha and Kabir, the only time he would mention it was when he would give me emotionless updates on closing Musafir.
The lease was broken.
The files were packed up.
The next tour was cancelled.
The deposits had been returned.
The employees were terminated.
In small sentences, he would give me these updates and I watched helplessly as his dream was systematically taken apart.
A few nights after his arrest, he completely broke down. We were watching a movie in my apartment. I was curled up on the side of the sofa and Vivaan was stretched out across the length of the furniture with his head on my lap.
Suddenly, I felt something wet on my legs. Startled, I looked down and saw tears streaming down Vivaan’s cheeks. He was crying silently, and I would never have known what was going on had his tears not seeped through my clothing.
Gently, I cupped his cheek, turning him so he had to look at me. Finally, he opened his anguished eyes.
‘What are you thinking?’ I whispered.
‘Kafe Kabir,’ he whispered back. ‘Why didn’t I just take my savings and help Kabir and Nisha rebuild? Now, Musafir is gone and I have no money to help Kabir.’ He started to sob.
I was barely aware of sliding onto the floor, then kneeling so my face was inches away from his. I wanted desperately to brush away his tears, but I was afraid to call attention to his visible misery.