by Sachin Garg
‘What? Can’t I like to read light fiction by a young author?’
‘You sure can,’ I said, mellowing my condensation.
As I began to enter, she held my arm and told me to wait.
‘Don’t you see who’s in your coach before you enter?’ ‘Why would I?’ I replied.
‘What sort of a twenty one year old are you? Don’t you check if there’s any girl in the bogie?’
‘No. I don’t. What’s the point? I have full faith in myself. I can never talk to strangers.’
‘Then you’re in good luck young man because that happens to be an area I specialize in,’ Vandana said.
‘We are going to meet Navya. Do you really think I should be chatting up to women of my age on this train?’
‘It’s not like you’re going to talk to the girl with an ill intention. Let’s do it strictly for learning purposes. See, here is an eighteen year old girl, sitting right opposite your seat.’
‘I don’t believe in train romances. And anyway, she is travelling with her mom and dad. Two more people have the same surname in the bogie.’
Vandana gave me a swaggering smile, as if she knew something that I didn’t.
‘You can make any situation work in your favour. See, if she’s with her parents and everything, you will have to get their confidence first.’
‘And how does one do that?’ I asked with disdain.
‘Well, she’s eighteen years old, so she must be about to enter college. So throw some buzz words. If she’s from commerce, tell them you’re from SRCC. If she is into science, tell her you’re from a big shot Engineering college and concoct a bit about the admission procedures. Then her parents would want her to take gyaan from you.’
As I entered, I saw a dusky girl, who seemed unusually chirpy. She had two different coloured bracelets dangling from her left arm and other pieces of junk accessories hanging around her neck and ears. I exchanged a smile with her parents and tried to not be too friendly with her as that might be considered flirting.
We established a nice and congenial environment. Aunty wanted my lower berth to which I happily conceded. Upper births guarantee you privacy. Uncle offered me food which I accepted. The Physics HC Verma book in her hand told me that the girl was preparing for her Engineering exams. I happened to point out that the newer edition of the book was more extensive in terms of competitive examination question bank. So her mother, seemingly impressed, asked me the inevitable question. And I answered saying that I was a student of Delhi College of Engineering.
The evening went on, and I ended up having a longish chat with the girl about entrance exams and other usual things. The girl gave away her awe by her expressions and gestures. To be honest, I could have asked for her phone number. But I definitely had other things on my mind. I was supposed to look for the girl who held the key to my inner peace.
All this while I hadn’t been thinking about the repercussions of my meeting with Navya: What if it becomes extremely awkward; What if she is with someone else now? How will I explain my sudden resurgence in her life?
Vandana and I got off the train and took an auto. And I got to see the first sights of Bhopal and it looked pleasant. Vandana assumed we would check into a hotel but I had something else on my mind. I needed the internet, not just to check my mails and things but to do my primary research on Navya. The auto guy took us to a cyber café where I Googled for Pharmacy Colleges in Bhopal. There was one called Acropolis Institute of Pharmacy. I connected the vague Arcopolo I remembered. This was it. I noted the address.
I looked at Vandana. She didn’t seem very presentable. Even I wasn’t looking all that great. We needed cleaning up.
It was late afternoon already.
We were in Bhopal, and we didn’t know anyone in the city. Looking for a room was a pain. Thankfully, I had yatra.com app on my phone. I browsed through the hotels on it and narrowed down on one, which was both, in my budget and comfortable enough. Whoa, all it took was a few seconds.
We checked into a nominal guest house. By the time we were done with the shower, it was almost three. If we really pushed ourselves, we could make it before the Administrative Department would close. Bhopal can’t be a big city.
‘Let’s go,’ I said.
But Vandana didn’t seem interested in going anywhere that day. In fact, she convinced me to do it tomorrow.
‘So what are we going to do today?’ I asked Vandana.
‘Is that even a question?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Can’t you see what we have in our room?’ she said, salivating with excitement.
‘What?’
‘We have a TV! God, how badly I missed watching TV in the Ashram. All my Tulsi, Mihir, Kumolika must be missing me so badly. For the whole day today, I am not leaving this room,’ she said, with the broadest grin I had ever seen on her.
Because of her unusual contour, I had forgotten that she was a forty year old Indian woman before anything else. And an Indian woman is incomplete without her TV serials. She tuned into Star Plus. I had to retreat to the balcony because I couldn’t stand the jarring sight of that scene, which was getting repeated, with Sanskrit mantra chorus on loop in the background. But even standing in the balcony, I could hear high-pitched sobs from the speakers.
The next morning, even though we reached the college campus at ten itself, I chose to enter the Administrative Block at eleven. I was nervous about this and didn’t want to take any chances.
We entered the office and looked around. We decided to go to the first table and asked them where we could see student’s records. The person pointed to a table alongside.
Vandana had taken a long shower today and was wearing a brown salwaar kameez. She looked much neater and presentable.
I knew it was important to act confident in front of the officer. So I went and took a chair in front of the officer who was struggling with his computer. And looked at him confidently. Vandana followed suit.
‘Sir, we needed a favour.’
‘Yes?’
‘We needed class and roll number of one person from your database,’ I said.
‘Can I know the purpose?’
‘Well, actually she is a friend of mine.’
‘Oh is it? Then why don’t you know her class?’
‘I never asked her. And she never told me.’
‘Oh okay. Where did you meet her?’
‘I met her in Goa. In Arambol actually.’
‘What were you doing there?’
‘I used to do run small errands, like cleaning the floor, scrubbing the utensils etc.’
‘And what was she doing there?’
‘She was a guest.’
‘And what do you do in life generally?’
‘I am an Engineering student from Delhi ‘
‘Then what were you doing in Goa?’
‘Well, I was running away from my girlfriend.’
‘You think I am an idiot, don’t you?’
‘No sir. I think you are quite smart . . . and helpful.’
‘Will you leave yourself or would I have to call the security?’
‘We will leave ourselves,’ I said and got up from the seat. Vandana gave me a plain look. I had messed up the conversation big time.
Lesson learnt: Honesty isn’t always the best policy.
Vandana and I walked out of the Administrative Block and we saw the canteen in front of us. We went and took a table. I couldn’t help looking at every passing girl, hoping it was her. I thought somebody like her was likely to be famous.
‘Do you know someone called Navya Sharma?’ I asked a bunch of guys sitting next to me. They gave me a blank look and shook their heads.
‘Can you tell me where the Pharmacy Block is?’
They guided us to a grey building. I read sign boards and we reached the second year class, where I believed she should have been. A lecture was going on, so we decided to wait for it to get over. And when it did get over, my eager eyes look
ed all over for her face. I went inside the hall and saw all the remaining faces, but she was nowhere. I went and checked the first year and the third year as well, but with no luck. I asked people if they knew someone called Navya Sharma. Nobody had heard the name.
‘Now what should we do?’ I asked Vandana.
‘Let’s go back to the canteen and sit. Maybe, we would spot her there.’
‘Navya wasn’t the canteen type,’ I said.
‘Then what type was she?’
‘Chilling in her room and doing her own stuff type.’
‘I don’t think we can check that, can we?’
We walked dejectedly to the canteen, when Vandana saw some books in a student’s hand.
‘I have an idea. Come,’ she said, and got up.
‘But where . . .’
‘She took me to the librarian. None of the books would have accumulated dust if the librarians were usually pretty. Because then the guys, on the pretext of hitting on them, would take unnecessary help of these librarians (and have kids with them in their heads).’
‘You see her?’ Vandana asked me.
‘Yes. I do. So?’
‘You need to trap her’
‘What does that mean? Listen, the one thing I cannot do is walk up to a woman and generate a conversation out of thin air.’
‘Samar, you remember when I told you that I help my guy friends talk to women?’
‘No,’ I lied.
‘Well, I think you can really use my superior knowledge at this stage,’ she said, and kicked started a completely random rant on how a girl’s brain works and how a guy can use that to his advantage.
I wasn’t fully convinced but I decided to give in because of the effort she put in her speech. We went to the fiction section and zeroed on Harry Potter. And with the book in my hand, I walked up to the librarian.
‘Hey, wanted your opinion on one thing. I want to give a book to my nine year old niece, you think ‘Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone’ is a good pick?’
The girl’s eyes twinkled a little. Unquestionably, she was a Potter fan. ‘Oh yes, definitely. You will be introducing her to a world that she will cherish forever.’
And then, I looked at her closely as if there was something really interesting about her face.
‘Has anyone told you that your nose wiggles just a little when you smile,’ I said.
‘No? Does it?’ she smiled a little more.
‘See! You did it again! Looks so darn cute!’
The librarian hadn’t had too many compliments thrown at her. And when I swooped in, with a genuine and natural sounding conversation, she took me on face value, and we were friends.
‘Hey listen, there is this book that I am looking for. But it has already been taken by a girl. Can you look up your database and help me find her?’
She looked left and right and luckily there was no one nearby. That was a good sign. It meant she wanted to help.
‘Tell me her name, quickly.’
‘Navya Sharma.’
She typed the name and I looked carefully to check that she got the spelling right. Her computer processed as I looked on with great anticipation. I felt as if I was just one step away from finally tracing Navya.
‘Well, actually, I am sorry; we haven’t ever had a student called Navya Sharma,’ she said.
I was distressed. I felt as if it had all been a lie. She was not from this college. God knows whether she was from Indore or not. I felt convinced that she was phony. All the excitement and positivity which had built up in the last week was shattered in that moment. The inertia of the moment made me hate my time at The Ashram too.
All this while when I had not been looking for Navya, she remained a pleasant memory. But now, Swamiji had taken away that happy part of my past; From now on, I would remember her as a liar.
I looked devastated and I could see it getting mirrored in Vandana’s eyes. As she looked on, with Swamiji’s words repeatedly coming back to her.
If the meeting with Navya doesn’t go well, it could shatter Samar really badly.
Such a Long Journey,
Such a Wrong Journey
Vandana booked the earliest ticket she could find to Delhi. She must have had some ‘connection’ because despite heavy rush, we were on the train the same day. And once again, Vandana bought a light romantic novel off the book store at the Railway Station. Books in her hands never went with the rest of her image.
As soon as we were in the train, she dug into the novel. She was unusually quiet today, as if she was reading the best novel she had ever picked. I was getting bored and naturally, wasn’t in the best of moods after what I saw and experienced. What I needed was some conversation to keep me distracted and my head busy. And Vandana had the knack of doing exactly what annoyed me.
Once dinner was served in the train, I couldn’t take it anymore. So I jumped off my berth and went up to hers. And I took the book from her hand.
‘What time will the train reach Delhi tomorrow?’ I tried to make small talk, snatching her book away.
‘Eight thirty. And give that book to me.’
‘What if I don’t?’
‘Why would you do that? I don’t think you have read this kind of fiction in your whole life.’
‘Perhaps I will start today,’ I retorted. I would have done anything to stop my whirring head from ruminating then.
I settled in my berth and looked at the book in my hand. The book was called ‘Love or nothing’, which I thought was a weird title. The author’s name was Nayanika Sharma.
I read half the book in two hours straight. This was some seriously talented stuff I was reading. I was interrupted by Vandana when she came to tell me that she was going to sleep and that I should express my gratitude to her for lending me the book. Within a few minutes, she was throwing loud snores at the whole cabin, and I was no longer the only one being annoyed at her.
I went back to the book. I felt a sudden curiosity to know about the author, Nayanika Sharma. I turned to the last page, which normally has the author’s bio.
I sat up because of the surprise! I had told her that she should become an author. I had never thought she would take me so seriously and succeed at it so soon. It also answered several other questions.
It was her. It was Navya. Those eyes, those ears, that nose, that skin, that hair. I had found her. Or at least, the first real trace of her. I woke up Vandana, without making efforts to contain my excitement and thus earning angry glares from co-passengers.
‘What happened?’ she asked, as she sat up.
‘We’ve found her! We’ve found her, Vandana.’
‘You have a house in Delhi?’ I asked Vandana.
‘Yes, but do you have a house in Delhi?’
‘Yes, I do. Earlier I had a roommate. Now I live there alone.’
We took a cab to my place in Rohini and we walked into my flat, which I had left just a few days ago. I didn’t have many friends in this area and I decided to refrain from contacting them. Once we were inside and settled in, I picked up the book again to look for any clues of Navya’s whereabouts.**
Nayanika Sharma is a pharmacy college dropout, who doesn’t like to spend too much time in one place. She is nineteen years old, and plans to be a prolific painter, and write in her free time. She is presently in some part of India, where she can do what she wants, without being disturbed.
That was the weirdest bio I had ever read of a published author. It was as if Navya had written a bio telling as little about her as she could. But she hadn’t lied about her college. But she didn’t seem to have lied about anything other than her name; which was a mini relief. And, I guess you wouldn’t really blame her for changing her name when she is living alone in Goa, doing things most parents will not approve of.
But the sad part was that even after having her book in my hand, I had no leads on how to look for her. I didn’t even know which city she was in. And knowing her bizarre ways, she could be anywhere.
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br /> ‘So where do we start from?’ I asked Vandana, who had been cursing me for not telling her before that there was no TV in my house.
‘Give me the book,’ she said, and studied it carefully. ‘Let me spend some time with the book and look for some clues.’
I let her do it. Not that I had many options anyway.
I went to my room and Vandana went to the other when we reached home. I closed the door, switched to some loose pajamas. Then I sat on the floor, in padmasana and closed my eyes. I tried to concentrate on my breath in the beginning. And once the breath became regular, I took my brain back to the day I had met Navya for the first time. I concentrated hard to recall every minute I had spent with her and looked for any clue which would help me find her.
Navya had been a clever person. She had made sure there were no hints.
I was disturbed by a knock on the door by Vandana. She seemed excited. I could see she had an idea. As she entered the room, her eyes fell on my phone.
‘Why has your phone been ringing continuously since morning? And why aren’t you taking these calls?’ she asked me.
‘Well, actually it’s my twenty first birthday today. People are calling to wish me.’
‘Then why aren’t you taking their calls?’
‘I can’t see a point. I don’t feel any excitement for my birthday anymore.’
‘Ouch,’ Vandana made a face. ‘Were you always like this?’
‘Yes. I was always like this,’ I lied. ‘But you walked in with excitement. What’s up?’
‘Did you see the copyright page of the book? It had the publisher’s address. And it’s here in Delhi. We can ask them for Navya’s whereabouts.’
‘Why couldn’t I catch that?’ I said.
Sometimes we are so busy staring at the closed door that we don’t look for any other way out.
‘We will tell them we are journalists. Journalists have access to everybody,’ Vandana continued, almost breathless with excitement.