by Gauri Mittal
Security was tighter than ever. The entrance to the city was guarded like a fortress. There were increasing reports of bands of goons trying to steal supplies. Three army men had given entry to a band of twenty men, all of them unshaven and their faces and hands covered with dirt. They were burly men with a dangerous, crazed look in their eyes. The soldiers had thought them to be survivors looking for help, but once they reached the city, they took out weapons and started threatening people with guns.
They wanted the food and water bottles in the city to be handed over to them, along with medicines. Ultimately in an ensuing fight, where a young man and woman were kept at gunpoint by the gang, three army men were killed. The young man and woman escaped in the commotion. Hordes of soldiers rushed in from 3rd Street, guns in hand, and surrounded them. The gang had no chance, and their blood spilt and stained the hard ground.
There was another such incident. This time it was a band of almost 150 men and 100 women. They belonged to a place called Kalkani and had so far remained in self-made underground safe houses. Many of their members had wandered through the land on foot looking for other safe houses and resources to steal. Most had lost their lives in the process. Finally, they found Shunya and had decided to stay here for good. Initially, they acted civil, and no one saw them as anything other than survivors like the rest.
They were admitted inside and issued residence and identification numbers, but soon after their admittance, crimes started. One night, two of the army men guarding the entrance to 1st Street, where single women lived, were killed, and a band of four men entered the street. They knocked on a woman’s door, and their comrade tried to lure out a woman, one who was my neighbour. I heard a sharp shout for help, but before I could switch on my room’s light, a commotion had started outside. Ten female soldiers stood surrounding the five culprits with guns in their hands. The very next day, on order of the prime minister, the five were taken to the registration office, their documents scrapped, and they were turned out of the city.
But then there was theft. From the hospital, five boxes of benzodiazepines went missing. Geetika was shaken. She was the only one who had the key. She was the head of the medical facility, and no one could access potentially addictive drugs without her approval. And there had been no sign of a struggle. The lock was intact, as was the cabinet. Which meant the thief was an experienced lock-picker.
Soon, soap started disappearing, and then one stash of cauliflower seemed to be lower in the granary during the morning counting.
The thefts were happening during the night, since at that time all the streetlights were switched off, for the city needed to conserve energy for use in the farm LED lights; Though those lights lasted ten years, they consumed a lot of energy.
Vishwaroopum went into a tizzy, trying to identify the culprit. He concluded all the recent incidents were connected to the recent tribe of survivors who had entered the city. He informed the prime minister, but the latter deemed it harsh to question the suspects without evidence and consequently turning them out.
Vishwaroopum, aided by Aarav, on further investigation suspected the army general to have a hand in the incidents by ordering his men to turn a blind eye. The general wanted to bring down the prime minister and regain his lost power, but they could say nothing without proof.
The clock in the middle of the street had struck one in the afternoon, and I had taken a seat in front of Pranav in the cafeteria for lunch, having finished with the morning classes.
“How is the school going?” Pranav asked me.
“Good,” I replied.
“You seem happier now than you were before, when you had to work on the farms,” he said.
“I am happier. I am enjoying my work,” I said.
He smiled, mixing the cabbage with the lentil soup. “I talked to the prime minister about the theft incidents. He says it is a small issue since they are only stealing petty things. I tried to make him understand that our life depends on those ‘petty’ things, but I do not think he cares. With his callous attitude, he is going to jeopardize all our lives. He thinks we are still in the Iddis of yesterday, where he is the king and we are his servants.”
His lip curled, and he continued in an angry tone. “Moreover, I have noted that ever since the prime minister was appointed, Vishwaroopum has become cold towards me and acts chummy with Aarav.”
His white shirt had grown yellow and worn from wear. His pants were faded. He looked exactly the same as he used to, three and more years back. The only thing in his manner that gave away the toll this life was taking on him was his unkempt beard. Although he was miserable like most people, he held on by inventing new ambitions for himself.
I did not have any news that would make Pranav feel better, so I talked about the most pressing matter on my mind then. “I am a little afraid since last week. I didn’t tell any of you, but the room in which the goons were about to break in was next to mine. I saw them from a small slit in the wall of my room for a fraction of a second before soldiers surrounded them. They were mad, Pranav. Their stances… they were like hyenas as they stood behind the gang’s woman, who was asking Eshwari to open the door.
“Eshwari had had an argument with that woman that very morning. Over some trivial matter. Moreover, the next morning, we saw the stains of blood at the entrance, belonging to the guards who were murdered the night before.” I shuddered.
Pranav put his hand on mine from across the table. It was warm and softer than I had expected, and though it held none of the comfort and anticipation of Aarav’s, I did not draw back mine.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked in a gentler tone.
“Well, I didn’t think it was important since the culprits are already banished, but now with these thefts… and the other people who came with them last month are still here,” I said. “Also, this morning one of the kids in my class mentioned that his father had forbidden him from playing at the far end of 1st Street, since the people who had been assigned to those rooms were seen smuggling some white powder into their rooms.”
The pressure he was applying on my hand tightened. “I will have to talk to Vishwaroopum. There is no use talking to the prime minister, and the general doesn’t trust me anymore,” Pranav said. “Moreover, Vishwaroopum thinks I conspired with the general to prevent the prime minister from coming to power. Don’t mention the white powder incident to anyone else, it can be dangerous.”
“All right,” I said.
Suddenly, a plate slammed beside mine, startling me, and Aarav sunk into the chair by my side. He eyed Pranav’s hand holding mine on the table, and I squirmed it free immediately. But I had already read the look of annoyance on Aarav’s face, and it had lifted my spirits. Was he jealous?
“Is something the matter?” he asked, swallowing the two vitamin pills on his side.
“We were just talking of the robberies that have been taking place in the city,” Pranav said before I could.
Though the two boys were civil to each other, a chill still persisted between Aarav and Pranav, even after three years of our living together in the city. Their comradeship, or whatever little of it existed, seemed to exist only because I was a mutual friend. I was mostly the first one to reach the cafeteria, accompanied by some of the students in my classes, at times with Ayesha, Geetika, Vishwaroopum, with some of the other teachers who were now teaching with us. Sometimes I sat alone, taking the same table every day and sitting in my preferred seat that looked out through a window over at the granary. Then Aarav and Pranav would join me.
“I saw the prime minister yesterday when he visited the communication department,” said Aarav. “It seems to me he is not keeping well. He doesn’t look like he has fully recovered from the radiation sickness.”
Pranav glanced at me, then said to Aarav, “Let’s meet at my office after lunch. I have something to discuss about the thefts in the city.”
“But both of you promised to join me, Geetika, and Dr Rajeev for the mental h
ealth program in the announcement hall. They’ve charted out the entire session. You guys promised you would help out,” I said, pouting. “They are going to talk about how to keep ourselves engaged and mentally strong to get through tough times. Aren’t you interested?”
“It’s important, Madhavi,” Pranav said. “We’ll come to the next session.”
I looked at Aarav. “You’re not coming either? I have to give an introductory speech. I’m nervous about standing in front of so many people and talking.”
He smiled a little. “As he said, it’s an important matter. I want to talk to him about the general since Pranav used to be close to him. But I’ll make sure I come by the time it starts. Forgive me if I am a little late.”
Pranav made a disgruntled noise. “We’ll both come,” Pranav added.
“Fine.” I shrugged. “I’ll wait for you,” I said, picking up the utensils from the table and making my way towards the sink to wash my plate.
Soon, everything was out of my mind except the upcoming program. I was to introduce a general outline about what we were going to talk about and its importance. Then Geetika and Dr Rajeev were to talk to them in detail about what steps they could take to keep their mental health in relatively good shape. Since she was the head doctor in the city, people recognised her and respected her. She was responsible, sincere, and hard-working. Dr Rajeev was Yashika’s father. He was a psychologist and worked with the patients in the hospital and taught classes for kids in the school.
My students had been having trouble with mental health issues, and whenever I went to the farms, the people there whom I had known for long often told me about their issues as well. Sometimes it seemed as if we were having a health emergency of sorts, a side effect of the traumas they all had suffered, and it had to be dealt with if we needed to rebuild a healthy society. So I approached Dr Rajeev and Geetika to ask them to chart out a plan to figure out the problems being faced the citizens of Shunya and ways to deal with them.
Chapter 14
Amonth later, on 5th November, 2037, the prime minister died of dehydration and electrolyte loss after particularly bad episodes of diarrhoea, having been frequently contracting infections over the last three months due to the irreparable damage the protective lining of his intestines had suffered from the effects of radiation.
The announcement resounded in the city through the PA system. “The prime minister is dead after a brave battle against grave injuries. The first election for the city of Shunya will be held in six months’ time. The political structure of the city, and consequently the country in the future, will be following the presidential system. On election day, the president will be elected directly by the citizens present in Shunya. The current citizens inside the city number at 3,500. Interested candidates can self-nominate themselves, or the public can nominate a candidate of their choice, following which approval from the candidate will be needed. All nominations must be filed at the administrative office.
“The selection criteria are as follows. The candidate should be of more than eighteen years of age. The candidate should have a medical clearance declaring them mentally and physically stable, issued after proper assessment from the city hospital. The nominated candidate should have at the backing of at least fifty people to be considered a possible candidate. The selected candidate will be declared the first president of Shunya and the first leader of post-war Iddis. The last date for application submission is next month, December 10th, 2037.”
*
I sat in the cafeteria, tense. Vishwaroopum had told me a fortnight before the announcements that my name had been nominated as a candidate with a sufficient number of people backing it.
I had no intention or wish to run for president. It was 3 pm in the afternoon, and the cafeteria we always sat in was almost empty, most people being out at their jobs. Aarav sat beside me, relaxing in his chair. The sound of utensils clanging kept reaching us from the other side of the wall, where the cooks and other kitchen employees worked.
“How can people nominate someone without first asking if the person concerned even wants to do it?” I said agitatedly.
“It’s up to you to accept it or not,” Aarav said gently. “No one’s forcing you.”
“But it’s absurd!” I said. “Why would they nominate me?”
“I think it is perfectly reasonable.” He was being serious.
I turned towards him to argue, but he put his arms on either side of my chair and pulled it towards him. I looked around to see if there were people around, but the only group was a couple of women who were leaving the cafeteria. I turned back towards Aarav. His face was inches from mine, and he was looking intensely in my eyes. His gaze fell on my lips, and I felt my cheeks burn. I waited in anticipation, frozen in place. But nothing happened. Slowly, he smiled, a teasing and regretful smile and let go of my chair.
I blinked. What had just happened?
“Uh, what are you doing?” I mumbled lamely, pushing the chair back with my feet to its original place.
He looked at my lowered eyes and blushing face and spoke very softly, tenderly, “What are you afraid of? If you want to run for president, do it. If not, let it go. Whatever happens, I’ll stay with you through thick and thin.”
I drew my head up slowly, looking into his eyes, trying to read them. His eyes were completely unguarded, searching, and also… afraid?
“What about Ashima?” I asked.
“Ashima?” he repeated, confused.
“Yes, don’t you have to take care of her? You like her.” Saying so, I let go of the thorn that had been present in my heart for over three years.
“Yes, she is a sweet, likeable girl,” he said. Then, observing my expressions that were turning rapidly cold, he understood what I meant.
“Oh! I don’t have feelings for her, if that’s what you meant,” he said. “She is only twenty-one, and I see her as a child.”
“Do you?” I said. “You spend a lot of time with her, though. Ever since she came here.”
He was sitting straight in his chair. “Yes, well, she told me she had cancer almost three months before all of you came to know. Only Geetika and I knew at that point. It was Ashima’s wish to not reveal it to anyone until she was forced to be admitted to the hospital. You used to be busy with people from the farms, and I felt I was disturbing you when we would hang out in the evenings. At the time I didn’t think anything of spending time with her. She was just a friend, but when she got cancer, she told me she liked me and asked me to stay with her through her tough time. She was scared of dying alone, you see. And then Geetika told me it’s best if she has someone to take care of her. You know she’s going through a tough time, Madhavi. You’ve visited her in the hospital with those little kids from your classes often enough.”
“You thought you were disturbing me?” I asked.
“Well, yeah,” he said.
“That was because in those evenings she was always with you,” I said, feeling my anger simmering. “I don’t like her,” I added.
“You don’t?” he asked, looking surprised. “But you always go and visit her.”
“That’s because she is going through pain, and she needs company and people to cheer her up.” I paused. “You didn’t even tell me when you suddenly left me alone at the farms to get a job with her at the communications office.”
“It had nothing to do with her,” he said. “It was because they were trying to build this small tower to catch satellite signals, and I really wanted to be part of their team.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling awkward.
We were silent for a while. All thoughts of the election and even the city were forgotten. Instead we had more pressing matters at hand to solve. Namely our pent-up feelings, tumultuous emotions that were getting harder and harder to handle every day.
“Frankly, Madhavi, I thought it was obvious. I mean, everyone knows. Why do you think I don’t get along with Pranav? I thought it was obvious you knew too. I just figured you
never responded because you didn’t feel the same way,” he said after a while.
“Wait, what was obvious?” I asked, suddenly curious.
“That I am in love with you,” he stated matter-of-factly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. It took a bit for the full meaning of his last sentence to hit me.
“You are in love with me,” I echoed.
“Wait, you didn’t know?” he said. “Even after I told you I went back to look for you at your apartment after the blasts?”
“Uh, well, I thought that was because we’re friends,” I said. Then I was angry. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I cried. “How can you expect me to know something like that if you never tell me?”
He was taken aback. “I told you I wouldn’t survive if you hadn’t,” he said. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I have confessed now. The only reason I didn’t say it so plainly before was because at first, in college, I was afraid you would stop being friends with me, and when we entered the city, we were all so broken. I couldn’t put another burden on you. Afterwards, when you had found meaning in your life and started working for the community, I didn’t want to disturb your hard-found peace of mind with my one-sided feelings.”
I spoke, a note of bitterness creeping into my voice. “Well, you found another girl to entertain yourself with soon enough. That’s what you always do, Aarav. Even during college, when I was first infatuated with you, you went out with Farhana and later with Ritu. I was forced to bury my feelings for you. Somehow, I did, and then, when they came back to me with a greater vengeance than before, you were completely engrossed with Ashima.”
“Really?” he said. “Madhavi, you’re telling me now that you were infatuated with me in college, and what, that you still are? What about Pranav? He is always right by your side, and whenever he’s not he finds some excuse to engage you. You definitely don’t say no to him, instead you encourage him with your smiles.”