The Lost One: Story of the One who ends it all (Shiva the Destroyer Book 1)

by Aarohan Atwal

  We all let a sigh of relief. For the next ten minutes we totally engross ourselves in the twisted knots of noodles. We stuff and we see, that’s all we do.

  They say shutting off your one sense heightens others, and perhaps that’s true. I observe, Raul closely and I see what I didn’t see earlier. He was looking away, stealing glances, and every time he did so, a feeble smile came to adorn his lips.

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask, surprised, and stomping his feet.

  “What?” Raul says coyly. You know what I mean. “Don’t act”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about” Raul sticks to his stance.

  “You want me to be discreet?” “Okay, then tell me what’s going on here? Between you two?” I point at Riya, who’s sitting on a table across ours, playing with her fine hair.

  “He likes her” Siddhant says. “So what?”

  I glance at Riya for a moment and I add: “And I think she likes him too”

  “Raul, I am pretty sure, look at her, she’s looking at you now” “She looks here and she looks away, and then she rolls her fingers in her dark black hair.”

  “This is a sign” Siddhant says.

  “This is a bloody open signal” I add.

  “Raul my dear brother, this line is open for you” “Make a direct connection or a cross connection, whatever, you choose”

  “You should go and talk to her” I add.

  “Talk how? just like that?” Raul says, nervously.

  “What else do you need man? Do you need a Pundit to arrange a shubh-muhurat for

  you.” “Just go there, it’s an open invitation buddy.” I say daring him.

  “He won’t go, he’s a big choker” Siddhant dares him, too.

  Pause. We both look at Raul, waiting for him to take a step forward. But like a big cowardice he sits frozen in his chair.

  “Okay then, I’ll have to take the matter in my hand, I’ll do something.” I stand up as I say, throwing back the chair. I see, Riya shifts uncomfortably on her chair, in anticipation.

  “Come on yaar, leave it, let it go, sit down.” Raul says, nervously.

  “I will to talk to her myself but not now” He procrastinates fearing the confrontation. I free my hand from his pleading grip and say, “Let’s settle this today” In all this excitement, I have totally forgotten my own woes, to hell with it, I’ll deal with it later. As I move toward her table, his pleads become more audible:

  “Shiva” he says “Come back, stop it.” He digs his face in his palms as I walk ignoring him; I approach her table. He’s seeing me with scrunch up eyes, anticipating the worst. I reach the table and I say addressing her:

  “Hi” I keep it simple.

  She looks at me, with her usual hatred for men of my mankind. “Can I borrow the bottle of ketchup, you see my friend over there.” I point my fingers to Raul, “He needs it.”

  “Take it” She says.

  But then she adds, “I’ll give it to you, let us use it first.”

  “Okay” I reply, as I head back to my seat.

  Siddhant asks impatiently,

  “What happened back there?” “What did she say?” Raul is looking hell of a nervous guy at the moment. He looks at me expectantly, hoping for a positive response.

  “I am sorry to say buddy” I begin, Raul’s shoulders drops and face withers.

  “She said, no” I pause for a moment; Raul looks broken and angry with me.

  “Why did you even go, when I said no in the first place?” He’s visibly upset.

  “Wait listen to me first, let me complete first, don’t jump to any conclusion”

  “The whole truth is that- ” Pause. “She said no, you have to wait.”

  “Wait? Wait for what?”

  “Wait, you’ll see,” I reply.

  “I’ll see?” It adds to his already magnified confusion.

  “Why don’t you tell us what exactly did you say and what she replied” asks Siddhant.

  “See for yourself, your answer is coming right you way”

  “- here she comes” I say dramatically. I bet, Raul’s heart stopped beating the moment he saw her coming toward him.

  She swings off the table as she gets up, it looks like a perfect walk from where I see it.

  “Why the hell she’s carrying the ketchup bottle?” Raul quizzes.

  Siddhant as he puts on the pieces together, breaks into a big laughter,

  “Wait and watch buddy” I reply. Raul seems so busy being nervous that he couldn’t see through it, probably that’s why they say loves inhibits your ability to think straight. As she comes over Raul nervously looks away avoiding any direct face to face confrontation or any possible eye contact. His face is completely reddened with embarrassment.

  “Here” she says, Raul turns toward her and watches her place the ketchup bottle on the table.

  “What the hell” he says, as she walks away. Siddhant is having difficulty holding on to his laughter, he could barely take it now. Raul’s face is a pulpy mixture of shame and embarrassment, as she leaves, Siddhant and I fall to the ground, burst-ed by an uncontrollable fit of laugh.

  Chapter 10: The Fightback

  My sister though a young child, sometimes behaves like a complete adult, and my father though an old man, sometimes behave like a complete child. My sister and my father are having an argument. The argument is about her considering herself a prodigy, sure she can beat me to chess (even a brain damaged chimpanzee can) and crack questions from the management test MAT. Her argument: she’s too smart for sixth grade and most of her classmates are stupid, and she’d be better suited in standard tenth, it’s not a far cry from the truth, she has indeed demonstrated the ability to comprehend that course. And so, I have reasons to believe that she has got a point here. But my father says, as he is always conditioned to say - he doesn’t want his kids to stress out, he wants her to take each grade one by one, no skipping. Maybe he doesn’t want her to end like one of those prodigies that we hear - for instance - Aseem Akash, the twelve year old kid, who was caught cheating in the BSc. exam.

  With her it’s not always what it seems like, she may want something but she would demand something else entirely, that’s how she plays. She’s just brilliant when it comes to people management or convincing someone over something. She has this mad love for adventures - she has already been to fun valley about six-seven times, if not more, she has, virtually, consumed all the rides there, anything that could offer her thrill from giant soul shaking Columbus to gravity defying Roller-coasters; in short she is what is called a thrill seeker. The very same thing that sends a chill down my spine and make me puke all over, gives her pleasure. So having fed up with all these chicken rides she has come with something new this time. I know the prodigy thing is just a facade, the real thing is hiding beneath the surface.

  “I want to go to Rishikesh then” She demands after few moments of silence, my dad surprised and bit delighted because of change of the topic.

  ‘That’s it? This is what it is all about?” ‘Rishikesh’ I say to myself, finding it bit difficult to chew.

  “You have seen Rishikesh already” He argues.

  “But if you insist we will go“

  “I want to go rafting, the day after”

  Father thinks for a moment and then he answers: “Okay, you can go with your brother.” “He’ll take you there”

  I smile, this was her clever game, she knew all along that dad would refuse her if she’d directly ask for his permission for rafting. She has invented this theory that suggests:

  ‘If your demand is likely to be declined then don’t put it forward, ask for something else instead, something improbable, something the other person would not agree in lifetime. And then having refused the first request you can put forward the second, the real one, the little milder one. Ninety-nine percent are the chances your request would be approved.’

  She surely is a child prodigy, I might have to agree, she has pioneered a whole new
theory in persuasion.

  ~~~

  Lying on my back on the warmth of my bed, several thoughts run through my head and almost all of them are concerned around one thing: the debacle of Sunday - Sunday was one of those horrible day that I wish never happened, aching body - from head to toe, deranged bones, and a psychological imbalance; all at the same time, to the same man. I am trying to sleep, but sleep is defying my battered spirits. And in the entire hullabaloo I have almost entirely forgotten what am I supposed to be doing, it is almost as if I don't care, it doesn't matter what happens on the DC-Day, Tuesday.

  Do I really need this? Do I really know what I am doing amid such epic stupidity? I am not sure even about trying, what is it worth? Why am I putting in so much effort in the lab? What did I get for the six months that I put in? DC! Ha, Ha! DC. Researching is a big waste of time, and researching on something that you are not even sure of is even bigger waste. What are we looking for anyway in those tiny spaces? Strands of human DNA wrapped around, coiling into a helix, a spiral staircase. The upward spiral that goes nowhere, the downward spiral that never ends, I thought I was going upward, while all the while I was going down, why didn't I see it? Directional sense doesn't exist in the empty space, our lives are empty spaces too, how can I know then, I am going up or down? The question itself is flawed, there is no up and down, here. The consciousness only exists, my consciousness is dying. Gagged in a sack, I am buried deep inside the earth, someone dig me out, I am afraid of closed spaces -

  With all that thinking and rhythmic tossing and turning I forget I have reached the end of the bed, I fall down with a damp thud. Mother shouts, “What’s that noise?” “A stray cat mother” I say. “What is it doing in our house?” She asks. “Looking for some milk mother, what else?” I say

  ~’~’~

  As the first rays of the morning Sun falls onto my bed, filtering through the netted window; I slowly come back to life, ready to find my purpose in the maddening world. Without getting up from the bed, I extend my arm forward, and pick up the alarm clock closer to my face. I squint my eyes to read, Seven A.M., never been in my life I have ever awaken before the alarm clock, but then never in my life I faced such an enormous problem. The day when I beat the alarm clock by a whole thirty minutes must hold something special, today I am gonna get up and fix the whole goddamn problem. I am gonna gaze right into the eyes of the Dean and am gonna say “Hell with you old man”

  I have a definite plan and unlike any other plan, this plan is simple - Find Devraj, Get the truth out of Devraj, and Slam the Dean’s face with truth.

  Doon Kripa, is not a very big hospital in terms of infrastructure but it can’t be beaten in the number of patients, for once you come here there’s a slim chance that you’d get out any sooner (and any better). Devraj must recognize me, and then it’d be his words against Ihita. I’d live, a ray of hope emerges through the dark clouds of despair.

  The morning feels bright not for the sun which is covered up by the fog, but for the hope of a new day. I reach Dilaram and from Dilaram I reach Clocktower.

  A big blimp sound makes me look up, it’s nine o’clock bell, I look at my watch it’s already ten! It seems that somebody has forgotten to wound up the big ben - the clock at the clocktower, not long time ago the issue ran in a local newspaper for like a week; many a eyebrow was raised, questions were asked but still no good. Ironically though an advertisement of Tag Heuer, the luxury watch fills up the nearby hoarding board. The board has been there for almost as long as I have seen it, and maybe even more, it’s a sort of icon, only the costliest and luxuriest kind of advertising appears on it, maybe a some sort of compass for rich people - okay this is hot right now let’s take it. An epitome of consumerism and a symbol of blood sucking capitalism it is.

  If I have to make a serious attempt to correct my derailing, crazy life, it would be now. I somehow get the feeling that it’s going to be a herculean task - from start to finish. The small roads of Doon leading to the clock-tower are so cramped that it is impossible to cross them (only a stray cow can dare to do that), couple of cars screech, stop short before me, as I hold on to my dear life.

  The hospital looks quite big, but unfortunately it’s staff, doctors and nurses are rarely at work; they are usually either on strike demanding more payment or busy running their private clinics. Few years back govt. made a rule that every doctor must serve three years out of its first five years, in the rural areas, a decision that prompted the mass exodus to the private hospitals. Eventually govt. had to take back their ruling citing the shortages of doctors.

  I am greeted by the receptionist in the lobby, an old man in late forties instead of a young beautiful dame in twenties that I was expecting, but then it’s Doon Kripa. I ask him about the patient called Devraj, he hits up few keys in the keyboard and makes a sorry face, “We don’t have anyone with that name” I ask him if he is really sure, he is sure he assures me.

  I engage him in a small talk, he opens up and tells me that he joined in place of his daughter who died with a heart attack on the job when she accidentally entered an operation theater and saw the doctors ‘practicing’. I sympathize with him on his loss, and ask him to search again, he shifts the monitor toward me and runs the search, nothing!

  I am confused, I try to recall, Dean did say ‘Doon Kripa’ no doubt about it. Then where is Devraj?

  I ask him if I could check by myself in the ICU, he points me to the direction of stairs, and replies - fourth floor.

  I make my way through the roundabout stairs of which sidewalls bear the symbols of ‘pan stricken’ art, few of the corners are surprisingly clean though, owing to the small tiled paintings of Hindu God and Goddess. Climbing the four floors to the ICU is very tiring, which makes me certain that the staff here must have a healthy heart. I grab one of the doctors, in a stained white coat; with rudeness in his voice he replies, ‘that way’

  The doors to the ICU are closed and guarded by a mighty looking... nurse. “I want to meet a patient here” I say, with an air of firmness.

  “Which patient?” She asks.

  Silence.

  I think for a moment and I reply “A..a..a, it’s..” “- Devraj”

  “- he is a student of ITS”

  She replies, “There are many students of ITS here, people from that college come every week here.” “So be specific”. She says unfazed by my charm. I assume it was supposed be her attempt at humor.

  She asks, “Are you a relative?”

  ‘I wonder if she wouldn’t let me in, if I am not’ I mumble.

  “What?” she asks.

  “No, I am his friend” I say.

  “Sorry” She says, “Friends, journalists and dogs are off-limit.”

  “It’s very important madam“ I plead, “Very very important, I have to see this boy”

  “This is the matter of life and death” “Please” “Please madam”

  Her face grows stern and with an irritating tone, she says. “No, I said”

  “No, you don’t understand. NO?”

  “No, you don’t understand.”

  “You are mocking me?” she questions.

  “No, No” she repeats.

  “No, No” I reply.

  “You are mocking me, that’s it. Stop pestering me you -“

  “Buzz-off right now or else I am calling the security.”

  “Hold on madam” I say, trying to get hold of the situation “Calm down” “You don’t understand” “I am here to just meet him for couple of minutes; it’s very important that I see him, my future hinges on this one meet”

  “Oh! your future” She says with some serious tone. She pauses and thinks.

  “Why didn't you tell me that earlier?” She continues, her voice now much softer.

  I shrug to indicate that I tried to tell you, but you didn't listen.

  And then with a sudden change of stance, she shouts, “Security, Security.” Silence proceeds for a minute. Exactly a minute later, I see a guy. with
grey hair and a thick wooden cane held on one hand, come running toward us.

  “Wait! hold on” I shout, turning to her.

  Instead the old security man pauses, in a posture with his hands on his knees and back bent forward like a bow, he tries to catch his breath as he huffs, breathing fast and deep, seemingly tired with the whole exercise. I see him as he looks increasingly tired and I see him as he collapses on the ground.

  The nurse again shouts, “Doctor, Doctor,” But this time she adds running to her shrieks as she finds her way out through the hall. I feel for the poor old man, and think about helping him but I have much graver concerns to attend to. My complete sympathy with him, besides now it’s time for his son to get the job.

  It dawns on me, that the field is now wide open, I get to the door, and I look to my left, then right then and finally left once more, after getting assured that there is no incoming traffic I push the door, but it doesn’t open, I push it even harder only to find that it’s locked. My instinct tells me that I am doing something wrong, and the knob on the door confirms that, a little sticker above it says pull. And the door swings open as I follow the instruction, a wave of stale ICU air enters my nozzle making me feel dizzy. I put myself together quickly and enter what seems like a labyrinth. Beds after beds, hardly any place to stand in the room. I scan the whole room and reach the end, where is this guy?

  I look carefully again, this time a little slower. Disappointment, and then Surprise, disappointment as I couldn’t find Devraj and surprise because I found Miss Anjali Rawat, the ERP lecturer. She was sound asleep, her head wrapped in a thick bandage.

  ~’~’~

  Next up I go to CMI and then to Disha Hospital, they too don’t and didn’t have any Devraj. Where in earth this guy gone? He had to be here, these are the only three hospitals.

  Walking back to clock-tower, I encounter a set of beggars, a group of young children; I take out a two rupees note and give it to a brown-eyed kid. The twinkle in his eyes made my day, 'wish for me' I say as I ruffle his wild hair. I stop by at a PCO, I pick up the receiver and dial Siddhant’s no.