The Vaticinator

by Namita Singh

approve?”

  My mother stops her stirring. She looks surprised when she turns to look at me again, “Why would he disapprove?”

  I snort, just like my mother, “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Mother shakes her head, “You think he’ll suddenly become judgmental because of something as fleeting as a question of someone’s gender?”

  I refrain from commenting on that, “Guess I’ll know when he’d be back in the evening.”

  “Actually,” mother starts, looking sheepish, “He won’t be back until the weekend.”

  I feel my jaw dropping, “What? Why? Where did he go?”

  Mother shrugs, “After he informed me about your partner, he told me he has to leave. Probably on some sudden work trip.” She rolls her eyes, “He didn’t tell me the details, or rather I didn’t ask for it. I think he has gone to Daugavplis. I was quite excited and couldn’t really focus on what he was saying.” She admits.

  Damn it. Of all the times my father can go to some far away city is when I am thoroughly anxious to know his view points. I do not want to call him and seek his approbation. I want to do that face to face, in person. My father is not a phone person anyways. The conversation will be silent or one sided for the most part of it. No. Irrespective of his approval or disapproval, I want to face his reaction first hand in person. I feel a little twinge of irritation. I am sure my father must know how apprehensive I must be due to my sudden predicament. He couldn’t have decided upon a worse time to leave me hanging.

  “Josh?”

  My mother’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look at her to find her still smiling at me.

  “Your father and I, both of us, can’t be more proud of you.” She says.

  And for the time being,I cling to that simple sentence until I can get a solid proof.

  5.My Maladroit Efforts

  I usually believe that the virtue of my forbearance defines me greatly. It also displays my perseverance, promising my interest till the zenith point. I take great pride in my persistence.Butas I have already mentioned a few times before, my family is not a very great fan of my patient curiosity. It is something that I have never understood. But now I know the reason why.

  “You must at least put in some effort, Josh. Waving at him every day is not going to give you answers.”

  That is Aakir.

  I never thought that it’s possible for me to be irked by him. By Aakir. I mean, seriously, Aakir? Isn’t he like the epitome of pacification at its best? Yet, here he is, persuading me incessantly to get to know my partner at a more personal level. His curiousness to learn about Neal appears more heightened than my interest. Seriously, it seems like Neal is his partner, not mine.

  “You mean that it is not going to give YOU any answers.” I say, pointing at him.

  He snorts, “I am beginning to doubt that he is your partner.” He mumbles, “I mean, even after a week I can’t bear to be away from Silvia constantly.”

  “I meet Neal every day, Aakir.” I say, though I do feel a pang in my chest.

  It’s been over a week since I learned of my partner. I have taken every chance to encounter him in the hallways, wave at him, sometimes strike a vague conversation with him. Just like we used to; except it’s more frequent now. It’s peculiar that our constant acquaintanceship is not as sating as I had presumed. Just like Aakir, I yearn to be around my partner. And unlike Aakir, I wish to be only close friends with Neal, nothing more, even though most of my family keeps insinuating otherwise. But nonetheless, my rapport with Neal is not even close to be labeled as friends. Yes, we talk. Yes, we get along. But we don’t talk as I talk to Aakir or anybody else who may be close to me. There is a certain edge of formality in our acquaintanceship. Maybe that is why we are still acquaintances, I reason in my head sarcastically. And though I consider myself patient enough, I am still getting restless, wanting Neal’s aura to be a constant by my side.

  I hear Aakir snort next to me, “And I meet my math teacher everyday too.” He retorts.

  I rub my face tiredly, sighing all the while. I look around once, just to be certain we are alone in the corridor. “I don’t know how to go about it.” I admit, “I mean, Neal and I have been on talking terms for years now. Wouldn’t it be a little weird if I go and say to him, ‘Hey Neal, want to be my best friend from now on?’” I snort, “That’ll earn me the prickliest pick-up line of the century.” I end in my sarcastic tone.

  “You are such a retard.” Aakir mutters, shaking his head, “You can ask him for a coffee or something?”

  I glare at him, “We are not gay!” I whisper-yell at him, “Don’t expect me to ask him out!”

  Aakir rolls his eyes, “So, two guys sharing conversation over coffee is gay now?” he snorts, “Kids these days.” He mutters.

  “Just shut up, Aakir.” I continue to glare at him, “I am not doing it.”

  He raises and drops his arms in exasperation, “Then at least manage to hold a conversation with him for more than two minutes at least! Like this, you’re never going to get close to him. He is not going to disclose anything about him if you remain at this level with him.”

  There it is. The main reason Aakir so desperately wants me to consort with Neal. He is dying to know about Neal, to guess what results into him possessing such a bizarre aura. Aakir expects me to find something odd about my partner that may explain the oddity about the aura he exudes.

  I am thoroughly ticked off.

  I am usually curious myself. But this is my partner we are talking about, not some experiment. I have expressed my distaste towards Aakir’s pushiness more times than I can remember in the last week. He chooses to remain oblivious to my thundering choler against him. He even told me once that I am not supporting his curiosity because it is my partner who is involved and I am tending to become more defensive against any sort of accusation towards my partner. I am defensive alright, but much more irritated because even after knowing the reason behind my distaste, Aakir hasn’t given up on pushing me to know Neal personally.

  “I am not going to get close to him for your benefit. Hold your horses.” I tell him, still glaring.

  Aakir sighs, “You can at least talk to him about Duato. That’d be a conversation starter.”

  My left eye twitches as I resist the urge to sock Aakir in the face. He is itching to know about that as well. About what is it that has made Neal so much anti-Duato. Okay, I’ll admit I am curious about that one at least. Neal has never gone out of his way to be offensive to someone. From what I have learned, he wrote in exceptional detail about the wrongdoings committed by Duato, some remotely bizarre things. That resulted in the fight between the both of them last week where I had interrupted. Duato’s retaliation has seemingly infuriated Neal more. This week he again wrote in great lengths in The Plutocracyabout the wrongly assumed assets of our school, emphasizing strongly on Duato. Duato expressed his rage to our friends, announcing that he’ll, quoting him, ‘tear Neal apart’. I believe it’s a good thing Duato and I aren’t on talking terms anymore, else I have very colorful words for him. Students, especially our so called friends, are not stupid enough to stand against Neal. Neal has official permission to run his paper. Till he doesn’t write lies in his paper he wouldn’t be denied his right to keep publishing his paper. Duato may speak at length about how unfair Neal is being but he still hasn’t put forth any proof against whatever Neal has mentioned in his paper. Obviously people know who to side with. Duato noticed the silence of his ‘friends’ and decided to disappear amongst the background as well. At least this week he has been relatively tame, probably hoping to become invisible to Neal.

  But unlike Aakir I am not really interested in Duato or what he has done to make Neal dislike him so much. I only have a fleeting interest in the incentive that is making Neal sprout against Duato. And that will be explained more by the working of Neal’s brain rather than the actions committed by Duato. Now that my partner is Neal, Aakir suddenly expects me to be glued to The Plutocracy and tak
e word by word account of whateveris being written by my supposed partner. Neal may be my partner but that doesn’t mean that I’ll suddenly become pretentious and express my likeness for his paper. I never liked ThePlutocracy and nothing can make me like it either. Not even the fact that it’s the creation of my partner.

  “You’ll at least get to know him a little.” Aakir continues, looking beyond exasperated.

  Yes, I may at least get slightly closer to Neal if I ask him something personal. Asking about his thoughts that are making him write against Duato are somewhat personal, right? Aakir’s suggestion, though not very appealing, is suddenly starting to look alright.

  Or I am just getting desperate.

  “What’s the bloody problem in talking about something different than your usual, ‘Hi Neal, bye Neal’?” Aakir continues. “I hope it’s not your pride you’re worried about.”

  I give him a condescending stare. “What am I, twelve? That I wouldn’t talk to him, unless he talks to me first? Don’t think that low of me.” I snap.

  Aakir chuckles, “Then what is it?”

  I stay silent for several moments.

  “Josh?” he drawls when I don’t answer.

  “I just want father to return home first.” I blurt out and then I wince.

  Aakir tsk’s but then sighs, “Nikolai uncle is not going to be against this, Josh.”

  I huff, “How the hell do you