A MISERLY IMPULSE

Bracing the inescapable wintriness of a late November evening, three men in their mid 20s paced through the dark road that joined ‘Dhalku’, a little-known Kathmandu neighborhood, with ‘Bishalnagar’, a moderately upscale nearby suburb. The men’s strides interpreted the enormity and the urgency of their mission. Their footsteps sounded so regimented and poised that their feet seemed to know the exact purpose and route to their destination. When a man riding a motorcycle honked at them for his right of way, the three men turned back and gave him a synchronized gaze. The motorcyclist quickly changed his track when he saw their aggregated confidence under the beaming headlight of his brand new Bajaj-Pulsar 150.   

Though his age and his childish face evidently objected, Raman, the tallest of the three, looked as somber and resolute as his face and age allowed him to be. Among the three, he talked the least. But when he did, his words carried the collective weight of his intent; the rest, he let his companions decode in his silence. He was equipped with both the desire and the knack to be a leader.  

The man in the middle, Prabhat, was the most casual and talkative. The cold had apparently bothered him the most. He kept on moistening his dry lips by massaging his upper lip with his lower lip. Every so often, he would make a fist and blow warm air through his mouth into the open curvature where his index finger joined the base of his thumb. Then he would do the same into his cupped palms, first into the left, and then into the right.

“What is this with Kathmandu’s cold? Why is it obsessed with the tip of my nose? My nose is so cold I can’t even feel it.” Prabhat said rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.   

Raman glanced at his friend and exhaled a breath of exasperation. He then integrated his annoyance with his disapproval by slowly shaking his head. Prabhat was angered by his friend’s reaction, “What?”

“You are aware why we are going where we are going, right?”

“I am not going to talk about my nose when we reach there. I know how to act when I need to act. When have I let us down?”

Raman threw a soft apologetic punch on Prabhat’s left shoulder. Prabhat did not feel the blow through his thick jacket, but he knew that his friend was too much of a man to say sorry any other way. He hit Raman back with his left elbow and said, “This is not just your mission. It is our mission too. We are in this together.”

“Tonight I am going to settle this once and for all. I owe you guys like I have never owed anyone.”   

“What needs to be done, needs to be done. We have had enough of this.” The third man, Uday, added, before screaming at a three-wheeler driver who drove close to them, “You mother …”

Raman immediately tapped on his shoulder and said, “Uday, we don’t need unwanted attention now. Let it go.”

*********************************************************************

It was quite dark outside when Raman and his friends intruded Sunil’s house through the patio door. Somehow, they knew that door would be open. Raman entered the house first. His friends followed him. “Are you guys sure nobody saw us?” Raman double-checked with his friends.

“I am certain.” Prabhat replied.

“You are off the hook tonight. I will do the negotiation. If that doesn’t work, Uday will do the rest. Trust me; it’s going to be over today.” Raman whispered to Prabhat.

Prabhat nodded. A champion arbitrator and a suave communicator, he knew, that his role that evening was of a limited scope, if any.

On the contrary, Uday, an eccentric man capable of irrational hysterics, usually pulled the stunts. Before barging into Sunil’s room Raman made an eye contact with Uday to remind him that he had a big part to play that evening. “Don’t take the thing out until I tell you. I will tell you when.”

“What needs to be done, needs to be done.” Uday repeated.

***********************************************************************

“MAMI! HELP ME!” Sunil’s stifled voice echoed in the entire house. His mother, Kriti, who was on the phone, was the first one to hear the plea. Upon deciphering the voice and the direction it was coming from, everyone on the top floor raced downstairs, cramming the narrow staircase that led to Sunil’s bedroom.

“He sounds like he is choking,” Kriti’s elder daughter, Pallu, speculated.

Her words fell on deaf ears of her mother and her sister, who were busy incoherently mumbling their own theories.  

Once they reached outside Sunil’s room, Kriti pushed her younger daughter, Reeva, out of her way and said, “Let me.”    

When the mother opened Sunil’s bedroom, they were struck with psychologically overwhelming horror. No collective nightmares of their entire life had emotionally prepared them for the sight they witnessed. Kriti suddenly looked suspended in the moment by an evil wizardry spell. Her daughters began to shake and cry ferociously. For a moment, they all forgot that they did not have the luxury of time to be shocked, or to be distressed.

Sunil was hanging on the ceiling with a dark grey silken rope tied around his neck. His eyes, ostensibly frightened of their own reflection, seemed bulging out of the socket. Reminiscent of a savagely beaten stray dog, he was secreting fluid from every orifice in his face. His pants were soaked by the fluid secreted by another organ in the middle of his body.

“He just shouted for help seconds ago.” Pallu vocalized her hope, triggering a response to and from her own frozen self. She had inadvertently helped her family curb the acute pang that their body and spirit endured.         

“GRAB HIM!” Kriti instructed her daughters.

Pallu ran towards Sunil. Reeva, like a broken car tied behind a tow truck, simulated her sister’s path and speed. “Mami he’s breathing. I can hear him breathe.”

Kriti grabbed Sunil’s study chair that lay on its side directly below him. She picked the chair up and rested Sunil’s legs on it. “Hold the chair,” she asked her daughters before climbing on Sunil’s bed couple of feet away.

“Mother he’s breathing. He is warm.” Pallu repeated.

Kriti was too focused to respond. She quickly unfastened the rope, looked at her son’s eyes and asked, “Can you land on your own if your sisters fail to hold you?”

Sunil kept on staring at his mother. Words failed him. But like no actor in the world could, his eyes portrayed the most authentic role of a man’s desire to be alive. Suspicious of permanent darkness that it might lead to, they refused to blink. As his eyes started closing without a blink, his mouth opened wider. He salivated some more, possibly craving for a little portion of more life.  

Kriti did not waste time exchanging feelings with her son. She looked at her daughters and said, “It’s up to you guys. Put all your body strength on your legs. Stand tight. I will let him go on three.”

“Ok on three,” Reeva affirmed.

“One … two …”

As soon as she let Sunil go, Kriti jumped off the bed to help her daughters. The three women safely brought him down to the ground. “Give me that pillow. Get some water. Call Dr. Bhatt quick. Don’t give him the details.” She directed her daughters.

After handing the pillow to her mother, Reeva stormed to the kitchen upstairs. Pallu ran to the phone.

 “How are you doing?” Kriti whispered to her son. Sunil opened his eyes and blinked couple of times to comfort his mother.

Kriti quickly wiped the tears that rolled out of her eyes. Finally, unburdened by the duty of saving her son’s life, she felt liberated enough to grieve. It was too early to rationalize whether it was too late to grieve. The short time she had spent in her son’s room had clogged her mind with too many questions. At that moment, she feared nothing more than her own questions, because she knew her questions were answerable.      

After helping Sunil rest his head on the pillow, she made him stretch his legs and examined bruises around his neck. “Reeva, get me that Neosporin from the medicine box. It’s in my bathroom.”

The room was in disarray. There were torn pieces of paper everywhere on the floor. Kriti meticulously collected everything from the floor and dumped them in the trashcan. She also hid the rope underneath Sunil’s bed. Then she leaned over him and was just about to ask him something, Reeva entered the room with a glass of water and the ointment. Pallu followed her sister, “Bhatt uncle said he will be here in 15 minutes.”

After giving him some water Kriti was applying the ointment on his bruises, Sunil opened his eyes. He looked at everyone in the room in the reverse age order and mumbled, “They did this to me.”  

The family was yet again hit by a bolt from the blue. They were visibly shocked, Kriti, more than her daughters. Everyone paused in their listening pose, as if they wanted a still photograph of their curiosity.

“Who did this to you?” When Sunil did not volunteer, Pallu followed up.   

“Raman, Uday and Prabhat.”

The silence that followed Sunil’s words was caused by the deafening uproar of emotions the other three experienced. The three women repeatedly traded staring gazes to each other. The blank that their faces drew hinted only confusion. There was no trace of anger in their expressions. Having sustained so many spasms in so little time, their face muscles were too tired to stretch for a new sensation.           

“I thought you guys were over with, whatever you guys were fighting about. I thought the chapter was closed. For god’s sakes, was it not?” Reeva’s voice modulation had the equally distributed index of rage towards her brother and his enemies. She did not sound immature or meddlesome; she was just unforgiving.      

Kriti raised her palm asking Sunil not to respond to his sister. She took a long look at her family one by one and said, “I want to go on record here… what we saw and heard in this room will not leave this room. I don’t want any more fights. I want to live the rest of my life in peace. I will do whatever I can do legally against Raman and his friends… but this will not leave this room for now. Do we understand each other?”

Kriti’s children trusted her enough to obey without agreeing. “What do we tell Bhatt uncle?” Pallu asked.

“We tell him what we saw and heard here. You all know what we tell him will not leave this room. He deserves at least that much credit.”

***********************************************************************

Dr. Bhatt arrived in 20 minutes. He had no idea what had really happened. On the phone, Pallu had only told him that her mother urgently needed him. When he saw Sunil resting on the floor surrounded by his traumatized family, in spite of being very close to them, he refrained from making any impulsive comments. He chose to be a doctor because that felt easier.

Making an inverse vertical ‘L’ with Sunil by perpendicularly standing at his feet, Dr. Bhatt quietly observed him from the oblique view. He deliberately ignored the family while he scrutinized the man on the floor. He took out a small notebook from his anti-bacterial doctor’s bag, took a pen out of his shirt pocket and quickly jotted down his assessment in his notebook.       

“What happened here?” Having already figured out the reason behind Sunil’s bruises, Dr. Bhatt’s question ended with the feel of a rhetorical exclamation mark.

“Look at the bruises around his neck.” Kriti suggested.

“That is exactly my question, vauju. What happened here?”

When nobody said anything, Dr. Bhatt sat down on his knees next to Sunil, looked at Pallu, and repeated, “Someone needs to educate me what happened here while I examine him. Maybe the uncle does not, but the doctor needs to know.”

Kriti explained what they saw and heard while he examined Sunil. When she choked, Pallu continued. By the time Pallu started to choke, there was not much left to tell. Dr. Bhatt was furious. “Why haven’t you called the Police yet? We have to have them arrested right away.”

“Calling the Police, what good will that do us? It will be our words against theirs. We need to explore other options. I will do that. Let Sunil’s health be our priority for now.”

“What has Sunil’s health got to do with not filing a police report? His health is my responsibility now.”

“Give me couple of days. I will do what needs to be done. I beg you to keep this to yourself for the time being. I don’t want to see more fights. I won’t be able to stand any of this anymore.”

When he failed to influence Kriti, Dr. Bhatt made a half-hearted concession. Kriti had known the man since she was 19. For her, his reluctant nod was worth more than a signed affidavit.

After thoroughly examining Sunil, Dr. Bhatt suggested that he wanted to keep an eye on him for a day or two at his private nursing home. “I’m not that concerned about those external vital changes. Those will go away. But the consequence of sudden constriction could have damaged the tissues beneath. It doesn’t look that way, but it could have even damaged his kidneys. Do you remember how long it lasted?”

“Uday gagged me, I couldn’t scream. As soon as they ran away, I screamed for help. My guess would be 30 to 45 seconds.” Sunil was still gasping for every word.

“You don’t have a clue how lucky you are.”

“Mami did not panic. She saved him.” Reeva added.  

Dr. Bhatt looked at his watch. “My car won’t do. I might need a cardiac monitoring among other things. I will call the ambulance.” When he saw Kriti’s troubled face, he assured her, “Don’t worry; I will tell them to have their sirens turned off. The neighbors will not notice.”

In a corner next to the computer desk, Pallu, with her head down and hands nervously folded below her chest, had once again started sobbing. The flashback of what she had seen 40 minutes ago was periodically haunting her composure. Kriti had somehow managed to keep a stiff upper lip. Because every time she cried, it felt therapeutic, and she did not want to be healed so quickly.

“Dada, what did you do this time that led to this?” The 21-year-old Reeva yelled at her brother. She was as intense and angry, as she was blunt.

“Reeva!” Dr. Bhatt broke her off.

“Bhatt uncle, I am only trying to make some sense out of this. What could possibly lead to something this tormenting? I need to know that dada is completely innocent, so I know where to channel my anger. I don’t want to feel sorry for Dada; I want to feel sorry for those who did this to him.”

Years ahead of her age in reason and logic, Reeva made Dr. Bhatt dodge the subject of her argument. “This is not the time for that debate,” he replied, adding, “The ambulance will be here any minute. Grab his clothes and stuff.”

The obedient family began to grab Sunil’s clothes and stuff.  

*****************************************************************

“I came as soon as I heard. Why are you here?” Ashim asked his best friend.

“Who told you I was here?”

“Reeva did. When she realized she did, she panicked like she gave me a secret password by mistake. What’s going on?”

“I am here for a routine checkup.”

“A routine checkup? Aren’t you too young for that? What are those scars around your neck?”

“Allergies. Bhatt uncle wants to run some blood tests.”

“I am no doctor, but those scars don’t look like allergies to me.”

Ashim and Sunil went back and forth, one inferring and the other denying the reason behind Sunil’s being at the clinic. Every single time the patient simplified his answer, the visitor became more quizzical. When it dawned on Ashim that his attempt was going in vain, he grudgingly resorted to guesswork, “Raman and Uday have something to do with this?”

Sunil cringed with fawning admiration upon hearing Ashim’s chilling assumption. He put a pillow behind his back and sat down straight. Their brusque glances reciprocated infinite flashbacks. Neither man’s eyes revealed a single shade of a happy memory. 

“Mami has been adamant on keeping this a secret for now.”

“Nobody keeps a secret like me. You, of all the people, should know that.”

“Close the door.”

When Ashim accommodated his request, Sunil said, “Sit.”

“That serious?”

“Last night, around seven, Raman, Uday, and Prabhat came to my house to bicker over the same issue. I have no idea how they entered the house. I never heard the main door open or close … Raman started talking. He repeated the same thing over and over.”

“Stop seeing Elina?”

“Yeah.”

“But this has been quiet for so long. Why suddenly?”

“I don’t know. I told him it’s not his call to make. It is between Elina and me. When I did not back down, Raman turned to Uday. I only saw him pull something out of his pocket. Before I could react, Uday took a swing at me.”

“He hit you in your house? In your room?” Ashim grinded his teeth so forcibly that his jaw muscles tightened, forming two small lumps on his both cheeks.

“He hit me with something so hard that I lost time. I have no idea what happened next. I have some vague memories of them gagging me. When I opened my eyes, I found myself tied up with a rope, hanged to the ceiling. My legs were resting on my chair. Uday kicked the chair to the floor before they ran away … It was not my time to go, I guess. I was able to scream for help.”

Ashim was so angry and shocked that he made a fist and cracked all of his fingers at once. His face turned red. He stood up from the chair and started walking around the room. “They tried to kill you? It has gone that far? Does she know?” 

“Who?”

“Elina.”

“Nobody knows about this. Outside the family, only Bhatt uncle knows, and now, you. They are walking free because they know nobody saw them enter and leave the house. It was dark.”

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me. They are not in the jail already?”

“Mami does not want to press charges. Not yet.”

“Where is aunty?”

“She was here all night. Bhatt uncle called and insisted that she rest. His nurse gave her an empty room across the corridor. She went to take a quick nap around 7:30.”

********************************************************************

A man in his late 30s pushed the door that was purposely left ajar. Upon entering inside, he cleared his throat to convey his presence in the room. When the engrossed woman sitting on the chair behind the desk did not acknowledge, the man quipped, “Madam, you were the one who authorized that ‘no sleep at work’ policy.”

“I am listening, Narendra. I am swamped here. What is it?” Kriti responded without lifting her head. Her eyes were buried in a thick file of papers, while her pen condensed the contents into a thin notepad.

“A young man is here to see you.”

“Sunil?”

“Then I would have said Sunil babu is here. Having met him 53 times, I am sure I recognize his face. But strangely enough, the world seems to have one more young man. This one is quite tall and long-limbed.”

“What does he want?”

“I did not ask, madam. But my guess would be a green card to America. Or, maybe Priyanka Chopra. With the kids these days, you never know what they want.”

Kriti finally lifted her head and smiled at Narendra’s playfulness. From the cheery look she gave him, it seemed she was quite fond of him. “There is no wining with you, Narendra. Where is he?”

“Like a ‘Dharaharaa’, he has erected himself outside. Some of the staff members have already started climbing him.”

“Send him in.” Kriti said smiling.

Narendra walked three steps back and stretched his neck rearward through the door. “Come in, vaai,” he called out loudly, “Watch the ceiling. You don’t want to mess your pretty hair.”

When 6’ 2” tall Raman walked inside Kriti’s office room, Narendra asked Kriti, “Tea?” Before she could decline, he glanced at the young man and offered, “Bournvita?” 

“I will ring you if I need something, Narendra. Close the door on your way out.” Kriti politely chased the jolly man out of her room.

“You must be very surprised to see me here.” His hands clasped from nervousness, Raman said. He was standing next to the door.

“Actually I am relieved to see you here.”

Raman locked the door from inside, took out a dark grey silken rope from his jacket and lounged to Kriti.

“Reeva, help me.” Kriti screamed. 

Kriti opened her eyes and scanned the empty room at Dr. Bhatt’s nursing home. She had slept on her arm so badly that when she rolled her fingers on her face, she felt the depth of wavy marks on her right cheek. The left edge of her right hand had fallen asleep from the compressed nerves. She wiggled her thumb to bring it back to life until she realized that the tingling sensation in her thumb bothered her far less than the numbness of her heart. She could not tell whether that numbness was caused by the nightmare she had minutes ago, or by the reality, she bore hours ago.     

*******************************************************************

“When did you get in?” Kriti asked Ashim when she returned to Sunil’s room after taking a short nap.

“About an hour ago.” Ashim replied, standing up from his seat to offer Kriti the only chair in the room.

“Reeva told him I was here,” Sunil added.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

Kriti skimmed her son’s eyes prior to reviewing Ashim’s body language. She quickly audited the missing eye contact between the two friends. A weathered sleuth by nature and experience, she had collected enough evidence to take Ashim by surprise: “So, Sunil has already told you what happened.”

“About?”

“Shut up Ashim,” Kriti dismissed him. “I can tell you are trying. But the expression on your face is not the expression you think you are revealing to me. You look too angry to fake it.”

“I don’t know what you are …”

“Listen to me Ashim. You are not going to do anything about it. Not this time. You have protected Sunil all your life, now it’s my turn to protect him. I will do it the right way. I am not saying yours was the wrong way. It just didn’t lead us anywhere.”

Ashim made an eye contact with Sunil to convey him that he was going to disclose to his mother that he knew. Even though Kriti was looking at Ashim, Sunil did not squander a gesture. He knew his mother all too well to know that she was watching her son through Ashim’s reaction.  

“Aunty, you have to have those criminals arrested.”

“Put on your thinking cap for a second. Nobody saw them enter or leave our house. It’s going to be our words against theirs. Uday’s uncle is the AIG. We all have heard and read how ruthless and biased he can be. Even if we file the report, who in this city you think has the guts to arrest AIG Thapa’s nephew?”

“What’s on your mind then?”

“I am not telling you my plan, but we are doing it my way this time. You are not going to confront Raman or Uday. And you are not going to tell this to anyone, not even to your family. No more fights.”

Ashim’s voice started to tremble. “They did this to him in his house, in his …”

Kriti interrupted him again. “I dozed off for an hour in the other room, and I had a nightmare about this. I have slept for only one hour since this happened and a nightmare woke me up. Which means this is my problem now.”

When she found herself struggling to fight her tears, Kriti walked out of the room without giving Ashim any opening for his closing argument. 

“It’s time for you to get the hell out of here. We are not getting any younger. I am going berserk right now. Every part of me wants to wreak vengeance. But what’s next? Do we retaliate the same way? Then what is the difference between them and us? Frankly, I fought them because I believed Raman was a worthy foe. Turns out, not so. I never thought he would hit us below the belt like this. I think aunty has a point.” Ashim tested Sunil. 

“Maybe I’m tired of all this too. I don’t know what her plan is, but let mami handle this. I want to move on. I want to start a new life without Elina.”

Ashim was stunned to hear Sunil’s admission. But he did not show his displeasure. Rather, he played along, “You should go away. We should be spending this time on our future. Any luck with your admission?”

“No. I got the rejection letter from UVA as well. Austin Texas and Emory have already rejected me. I only have Vanderbilt and USC remaining. I thought 660 was a decent enough GMAT score … Seriously, I have no idea what I will do next. I just wanted to get out of this country. I wanted to move on.”

“How long is Bhatt uncle keeping you here?”

“Till tomorrow I think. Listen, I know you will be tempted, but don’t talk to Elina at all. Please! She doesn’t need to know this.”

**********************************************************************

Kriti was talking to one of the nurses when a conspicuously dejected Ashim walked out of Sunil’s room. “Are you leaving?” She asked him.

“Yes. You need a ride?”

“Take me home.”

Kriti insisted Ashim to join her for lunch. Ashim did not have any craving for food, but he had never mastered to emphatically pronounce the one-syllable word ‘no’. He opted to eat, rather than reason himself for his loss of appetite that morning. 

Presuming Kriti was going to be busy in the kitchen, Ashim was just about to grab the TV remote in the family room, Kriti stopped him, “Don’t turn it on; let’s talk.” She then walked out of the room promising, “I want to show you something.”

Few minutes later, Kriti came back to the family room with an old postcard size envelope in her hand. She opened the envelope, pulled a stack of six old photographs from inside, and laid them on the coffee table. “Take a look at these pictures.”

Ashim held up the picture one by one, placing them from the top of the stack to the bottom after carefully viewing them. He went through each photograph twice. The first three photos were not in focus. The other three photos were of a giant hawk flying in the sky with a snake in its beak. One particular photo was so well zoomed in, that he saw the snake alive and struggling. 

“This is the first time I have shown these pictures to anyone.”

“The significance being?”

“Ashim, I got married when I was 22. I became the mother of one when I turned 23, a mother of three by the time I was 28. And a widow, by 29.” She paused for a bit before continuing, “You know how Sunil’s father died?”

“Not the details. I know it was a motorbike accident.” 

“Sunil’s father and Dr. Bhatt loved their motorcycle rides. I was the one who insisted them to take that trip. He had not had a break since Pallu’s birth. By then, even Reeva was already 11 months old …

“I never asked Dr. Bhatt where exactly it happened. I never will. They were heading west when Sunil’s father saw a giant hawk carrying a snake flying over them. He honked at Dr. Bhatt and they stopped to watch the hawk as it circled closer and farther away from them. He took these pictures. When the hawk faded away, they decided to hit the road again. Their motorcycles were parked some 50 feet apart. Dr. Bhatt says he was just two feet away from his motorcycle, he heard Sunil’s father scream ‘HEADS UP!’

“A huge boulder was falling from the sides of the hill onto the road across Dr. Bhatt’s path. He says he ran like a maniac. The boulder hit his motorcycle, but it narrowly missed him. While Sunil’s father was completely occupied alerting Dr. Bhatt, he didn’t see another boulder falling towards him. It crushed him.”

When Ashim chose to honor the man with his silence, Kriti said, “I knew you were not going to ask me how the camera survived the boulder.” 

“Why is that even important?”

“Never mind. Do you know why am I telling you all this?”

“You never talk about yourself. I am a little surprised myself.”

“Maybe it’s just me, trying to rationalize all this. But I see an odd parallel here. The last thing Sunil’s father did before he died was … he saved his best friend’s life. I know you have saved Sunil from defeat and humiliation many times. I may not agree with the way you did it, but no one makes me prouder. However, the parallel that I don’t see is … my husband’s friend, Dr. Bhatt, was worth it. You think your friend is worth it?”

“Don’t say that … Not while he is lying in that hospital bed with scars around his neck.”

“I know you want to set him free from the shame he suffered following what happened last night. It must be killing you inside that it happened in his house, in his room, and you were not there to rescue him. I know you want to even the score. It pains me to see your pain for Sunil. But you can’t risk yourself to save my son from every boulder that falls on him. Neither my son is humble enough to stay away from his problems, nor is he fearless enough to flee his troubles on his own. He has always been that indecisive and inept. You are fighting for a friend who may not be worth it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Let me fight for him this time.”

“You know the system here, they have connections. Who have you talked to?”

“Forget that. I will handle it. Sunil is alive. Isn’t that a gift in itself? I feel god saved him last night to reimburse me for my loss 20 years ago. To be honest, I am confused myself whether this is the time to be thankful or vengeful.”

Partly induced by Kriti’s certitude, Ashim felt the obligation to validate her concerns. “Do you remember that marble fight from 16 years ago?”

“I have not forgotten your bloody nose. I have not forgotten any of your fights. Not the ones I know.”

“I had seen Sunil move his marble with his right foot. I never told him that. But I didn’t defend him that day because he was weaker than Prabhat’s brother. I did so because I was all he had. I have other close friends besides Sunil. But I care most about him because I have watched him not being accepted all his life. He has flaws. As he grew older, his flaws only flawed. I grew up with his flaws and learned to condone them. I saw nobody accept him, so I could not reject him. Walking away from him would have been easier, but that is what everyone did. You know how hard it is to share this with his mother?”

“That’s why I expect you to do the right thing this time. Listen Ashim, whatever it is, that does not bring the closure, is not the right thing. If there is one thing my husband’s death taught me, that was that.”

“Why did you want me to ask you about the camera?”

“That should have been a practical question. Don’t you think? You are all about heart, Ashim. That makes you overlook the method of reasoning. You were not curious how the camera survived the boulder because you were busy feeling my pain.”

When Ashim sat tongue-tied deliberating on Kriti’s argument, she changed the topic and the mood of the conversation. “While we are being honest to each other, why don’t you tell me about my son? How is he as himself? I don’t know him the way I know my daughters. I only know his shortcomings.”

“I remember one time Reeva telling me that you were the table tennis champion at Loreto.”

“Not just Loreto, I was the champion at Lady Shri Ram as well.” Kriti bragged, smiling for the first time that morning. 

“Then I can sum up Sunil to you in one table tennis game …”

“Try.”

“During our second year college, Sunil was playing in the final of one of those yearly college tournaments. He is a very good player with an amazing hand-to-eye coordination; I think he gets it from you. Playing at 20 to 11 in his favor, a point away from winning the entire championship, he tried to hit a low ball with his celebrated forehand drop shot … Take a guess why.”

“One of the girls he liked was watching him play?”

“It was Anju Rana,” Ashim grinned, “Sunil did not need that drop shot to win that match. He completely missed the ball, and ended up hitting his right hand on the pointed edge of the board. His middle and index fingers were broken. He had to forfeit the match … His talent to succeed has always been overcome by his greed of unrealistic success. He could have won that match with a simple topspin volley. Because Anju Rana was there, he wanted to win the game in style. In the record book, he ended up losing to a much lesser opponent. And Anju Rana never knew him by his name. To her, he always remained that weird guy who made her uncomfortable.”

Kriti and Ashim looked at each other as if to concur whether it was too early to laugh at Sunil’s expense. “You know what he told me when he came home with those broken fingers?”

“I am sure not the truth.”

“Why is my son so dreamy? Since his graduation, he has changed three jobs in four years. He prefers to be unemployed than be realistic. His ambition is always bigger than his perception. He thinks experience can be fantasized. He lives in his own little dream world, only to quit whatever is reachable in reality. I don’t get it why he applied only in the top 30 schools for his MBA? Do you?”

“I don’t blame him there, aunty. Actually 660 is a pretty decent GMAT score.”

“He scored 630.”

*********************************************************************

Pallu looked animated when she and Reeva entered Sunil’s room at Dr. Bhatt’s nursing home. “Guess what?” She said waving a small open envelope in her hand.

Sunil’s eyes sparkled. He knew what was inside it. He snatched the envelope from Pallu’s hand, opened it, and started reading the letter inside it. “I am going to Nashville,” he mumbled joyfully, “Thank god they don’t have a good football team to distract me.”

Pallu started crying to see her brother happy. Reeva stood in silence and watched her brother. She did not understand why Sunil looked so happy. She did not understand why her brother did not bare a trace of nostalgia from the thought of leaving the family that saved his life only 40 hours ago. She did not understand why the family that spared him his reality were absent in his dream. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Sunil asked Pallu, “Take all of my certificates and have them attested by Saroj mama. They are in the first drawer on the left. Can you do it first thing tomorrow? I want to apply for the visa as soon as I get out of here. Bhatt uncle said he will let me go tonight if he gets all the results.”

“When mami says she has a plan, she must have a big plan. I trust her completely. I have already heard her whisper on the phone couple of times. But, Dada when you leave this country, I want you to leave from the front door, like a man. Don’t run away from the back door. You can’t leave without paying a visit to Raman and Uday. If you need Ashim Dai for the last time, use him. Because if you sneak away from the back door, you will hurt Ashim Dai more than you will hurt any of us.”

“Reeva cut it out,” Pallu grabbed her little sister and escorted her out of Sunil’s room. 

**********************************************************************

Emblematical of any Kathmandu neighborhood, no streetlights brightened up the narrow street. A small number of pedestrians, who were footslogging through the shadowy road, either were men in a group, or women with men—and a man by himself.  Ashim’s younger sister, Anu, was the only girl walking alone. She looked frightened. Triggered by self-conceived panic, her each step, like that of a long-jumper’s stride pattern, was longer and faster than her previous. Every now and then, she would look back to make sure nobody was sneaking behind her. 

A man on a motorbike passed her. He glanced back twice before stopping. He turned the engine off and backed his motorbike by pushing his feet against the road. He stopped right next to Anu. “Where are you coming from this late?” Raman asked.

“From my tuition class. My friend’s dad used to drop us all; he’s got a flat tire.” She coyly smiled upon seeing a familiar face.

Though she used to see him often, Anu had not spoken to Raman in years. He looked different and sounded much more courteous and sincere than she remembered him. Unlike Sunil’s family, Ashim’s family did not know the details of her brother’s animosity with Raman. They only knew that they fought each other over Elina.

“Kathmandu is not what it used to be anymore. This road is not safe. I will drop you off,” Raman offered.

Anu immediately declined the offer. Raman kept on insisting. Finally, when Raman promised her that he would drop her off a block away from her house, she agreed. 

Though everyone, including Ashim’s liberal parents, knew that he smoked, out of respect to his family, the 27-year-old man never smoked hiding in his room. Every evening, he strolled outside his house for a post-dinner cigarette. He was sitting on a wooden bench across from a little statue of ‘Kumari’ at a junction only a block away from his house; he heard a familiar voice say “Thank you.”

Ashim turned around and saw his sister getting off Raman’s motorbike. The hell froze over and his hands felt like an icepick. He was so angry, shocked and confused, he felt dizzy.

“What were you doing with him?” Anu almost fainted when Ashim sneaked behind her and asked the question.

 “Shobhana’s dad’s got a flat tire. I was walking home by myself, Raman gave me a ride.”

“Don’t you lie to me! You think I am that gullible?”

“That’s your problem. If you’re going to tell Baba mami about this, be my guest.”

 “You know nothing about that man. You don’t know what he is capable of. If I see you with him again, it will be ugly.” Ashim sounded like a knocked out boxer begging for a rematch.

Anu had had enough of her paranoid brother. “Shut up Ashim, and don’t put words in my mouth. Even if I told you that Raman is my lover, what are you going to do? Are you going to settle this with your fists? Were you able to settle Elina and Sunil Dai’s issue with your fists? Leave me alone.”

********************************************************************

Ashim did not sleep well that night. He knew his sister was telling him the truth, but seeing her with Raman had only added insult to injury. He was incensed by Raman’s audacity to approach his sister only four days after trying to murder his best friend. Aside from that incident, the conversation Ashim had with Kriti three days ago had thoroughly thrown him into perplexity. That was the first time the generally resolute Kriti had ever discussed her son with him.  

Though Ashim woke up at  the crack of dawn, he lay in his bed, apologizing to his raw instincts on behalf of his rational self. By the time he got up from his bed, he was so split between his stimulus and regard, he felt incognito. Suddenly, the music he usually enjoyed sounded noisy. He became angry at Hits FM for playing a music-heavy song by ‘Mukti N Revival’ so early in the morning. After turning the radio off, he stood in the middle of the room restless, almost as if he had the premonition that the remainder of his day was only going to be worse.

To add to his aggravation, he had one more pending issue he needed to take care of that day. It was in regards to his Vinaju’s job, who with his family, had migrated to Canada 14 months ago.    

When he migrated, not quite confident of his adaptability and spoken English, Ashim’s Vinaju, who was an Assistant Engineer at ‘Department of Irrigation’, had taken a two-year leave from his job. Following a coup-like conspiracy by some of his resentful colleagues, merely 13 months later, his department had issued him a ‘Haajir Huna Aaune Suchana’ in Gorkhapatra.

Ashim’s China educated Vinaju, who was still considerably English-deficient and culture-shocked in Toronto, Ontario, desperately wanted to resolve the issue in Jawalakhel, Lalitpur. But he could do only so much from so far. In the end, like he did for everything else, he had called Ashim for help in extending his leave. Three trips to the ‘Department of Irrigation’ later, Ashim was yet to seal any deal with his Vinaju’s office.    

Among other confusions, rages, and stresses, Ashim had his Vinaju’s problem to resolve that afternoon. At 1:30, he had an appointment with the Deputy Engineer who handled his Vinaju’s case.  

The meeting with the Deputy Engineer did not last long. The DE turned out to be a very peculiar man. First, he did not exchange pleasantries with Ashim when he entered his room. Once they started to chat, he showed no respect for Ashim and never let him finish his sentence. After the eight half-sentences, the conversation that started with ‘Hajur’ switched to ‘tapai’. Seven more half-sentences later, ‘tapai’ became ‘ta’—and another half-sentence later, the conversation finally ended with Ashim slapping the Deputy Engineer in his face.

After smacking his Vinaju’s boss in the face, Ashim drove to one of the nearby Cyber Cafés to send his vinaju an email.

Vinaju,

You have no alternative but to work on your English, because I slapped Mahesh Rimal in his face. Please don’t even think of coming back to Nepal. This is hell, full of many Mahesh Rimals. My three-year-old vaanji deserves better. You can’t make excuses like Canada is cold. You knew where Canada was when you applied for your PR. It has not shifted its geographical position since. It takes millions of years for that sort of geological change.  

This is how I feel right now, and though I never tell you, this is exactly how I feel all the time (about you returning to Nepal). People who leave hell don’t come back to hell. By the way, I am NOT sorry that I hit your boss. If I think about this email for one more minute, the chances are, I will not hit the ‘Send’ button. So, I will not think anymore and hit the ‘Send’ button right away.  

Ashim

****************************************************************

From the Cyber Cafe, Ashim drove straight to his favorite bar. He had not eaten anything the whole day. He ordered an appetizer and a drink. Then, only drinks. After guzzling three bottles of Tuborg in an almost empty stomach, Ashim felt the load of unresolved issues more than any other time in the last four days.

From the bar, Ashim drove to Raman’s house. He was so drunk that he could barely walk. He parked his car in front of Raman’s house and hobbled to the balcony on the second floor where he found Raman chatting with Uday. Raman looked so surprised that he stood up from his chair. Ashim ran to him and took a swing at him. Drunk and senseless, he completely missed his target. Raman did not hit him back. He backed up, shouting, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Uday on the other hand, immediately came to Raman’s rescue. Ashim and Uday started shoving each other fiercely while Raman tried to separate them. The balcony railing could not support their collective weight and it collapsed. Uday, a champion gymnast, managed to land on his feet and walked away unscratched. Ashim landed on his hands and knees, but he could not save his head from hitting ground. Raman did not fall off the balcony; he somehow managed to grab the railing on the other side. “Are you ok?” He screamed, before running downstairs.

********************************************************************

“Did you get your interview date from the American Embassy?” Kriti asked Sunil. The entire family was sitting in the family room, sipping a cup of tea and silently assuring each other that everything was normal.   

“Next Tuesday.”

“I have kept the attested photocopies on the second drawer. The originals are with your I-20.” Pallu reminded her brother. Sunil nodded.

“What do you guys want for dinner?” Kriti asked.

Pallu was about to answer her mother, a phone call interrupted her. Pallu’s “hello” was followed by a very long pause and her panic whisper, “Ashim Dai is …”

*********************************************************************

Kriti, Sunil, and Reeva came back home from the hospital around 9:15 PM. Pallu was so panic-stricken that she chose to stay at home. Kriti was very serious. Sunil looked traumatized. Reeva was dispirited.

“How bad?” Pallu asked her mother anxiously.

“He will make it. It will take some time. It was not half as bad as I thought.”

“Is he unconscious?”

“He is conscious.” Kriti headed to her shrine room after that brief exchange with her daughter.   

Sunil was in his room when he heard footsteps and a knock on the door. As soon as he opened the door, Kriti slapped her son in the face. “You ruthless rascal, you are responsible for what happened to your friend … and god forbid, anything happens to Ashim, I will take you to the police myself.”

Sunil was stunned. Kriti never screamed at her children, let alone hit them. She was a modern woman, who loathed mistreatment and preached the same to her friends and relatives.

“How am I responsible?” Sunil shouted. She slapped him harder the second time.

“I know about those photographs. I am ashamed to be your mother.” A giant comet hit Sunil’s universe. He looked pale.

*********************************************************************

“A young man is here to see you.”

“Sunil?”

“Then I would have said Sunil babu is here. Having met him 53 times, I am sure I recognize his face. But strangely enough, the world seems to have one more young man. This one is quite tall and long-limbed.”

“What does he want?”

“I did not ask, madam. But my guess would be a green card to America. Or, maybe Priyanka Chopra. With the kids these days, you never know what they want.”

Kriti finally lifted her head and smiled at Narendra’s playfulness. From the cheery look she gave him, it seemed she was quite fond of him. “There is no wining with you, Narendra. Where is he?”

“Like a ‘Dharaharaa’, he has erected himself outside. Some of the staff members have already started climbing him.”

“Send him in.” Kriti said smiling.

Narendra walked three steps back and stretched his neck rearward through the door. “Come in, vaai,” he called out loudly, “Watch the ceiling. You don’t want to mess your pretty hair.”

When 6’ 2” tall Raman walked inside Kriti’s office room, Narendra asked Kriti, “Tea?” Before she could decline, he glanced at the young man and offered, “Bournvita?” 

“I will ring you if I need something, Narendra. Close the door on your way out.” Kriti politely chased the jolly man out of her room.

“You must be very surprised to see me here.” His hands clasped from nervousness, Raman said. He was standing next to the door.

“Actually I am relieved to see you here … Sit down.” 

“It took me a lot of courage to show up here like this. I came only because I have heard a lot about you.”

“It’s about Sunil and Elina I assume.”

“At this point, it’s just about Sunil. They are no longer the way they were. It’s been a while.”

Kriti looked surprised when she heard about her son’s breakup. “I didn’t know. Honestly, I am both sad and relieved … then why are you here?”

“It was Elina who walked away from him. But Sunil kept on pursuing her. He started following her, then the late night anonymous phone calls and emails. When she ignored everything, one morning, he walked into her office. She was so humiliated she called him names. Then he started to blackmail her.”

“How is my son blackmailing your sister?”

“They had taken some photographs together, cuddling and hugging each other playfully. The photographs are not lewd by any stretch of imagination, but we live in a very conservative society … and Elina is getting married.”

“And Sunil is doing what with those photographs?”

“After Elina insulted him at her office, which she regrets a lot, Sunil sent those photographs to her office address. That evening Elina called him and offended him more. Then he sent the photographs again to our post box. Buwa usually opens our post box, but luckily, it was Elina that day. She called Sunil and cried. She begged him not to do that. She told him that she was getting married. Sunil responded by reciting the would-be groom’s name and mailing address. Literally, like a Hindi movie … You want to see the photographs? I brought them with me.”

“No, that’s fine. I will take your word for that.”

“This guy that Elina is getting married to, he is a good guy, from a good family. But his family is way too conservative. If this thing spills …”

“How did you know about this? About the photographs?”

“Elina came crying to me … Of course my initial reaction was to be angry. But I have matured. I know I can’t solve this by fighting. I can only make it worse. Last night, whole night, I kept on weighing whether to go talk to you or Ashim. I chose you because I felt I owe you an apology for so many years of meaningless altercations with your son. But believe me last couple of years were calm. I was not happy about it, but I did not want to hurt myself by hurting my sister … So, here I am, saying sorry and begging for your help. Elina really likes this guy and wants to get married.”  

“A long before this photograph thing … before all this, you still hated my son. Why?”

“Sunil and I never liked each other as far as I can remember … the first incident I remember was, we were very young and we were playing marbles. I never liked him after that. But I never hated him until he started seeing Elina. The first time I fought him, I did so, because I thought he was leading Elina to get back at me. But when we fought, he did not fight back. While Ashim fought his heart out for the cause that was not his to begin with, Sunil hid behind him and defended himself. That’s when I started hating Sunil. I felt my sister deserved someone better, who could defend her if need came. If Elina had chosen Ashim instead of Sunil, I would have let it go.”

**********************************************************************

“That’s not all. I know about the certificate too. I know you forged it. You were lucky enough to attend such a great institute, and you have had yourself expelled by plagiarizing your thesis. Tell me where that degree that you showed us came from.” Kriti sounded drained and appalled. Sunil looked petrified.

Any other day, Sunil would not have confessed the truth to his mother, but that night emotions were running too high, and he thought he could risk it. “The university gave me a course completion certificate, but denied me the diploma. I had it made in the downtown.”

The revolted mother slapped her son one more time before she broke down completely. The last four days had been so taxing that neither had any emotion left to employ. Kriti sat on the chair by the computer. Her eyes fixed at her son, she emptied her lung with a long exhale and swapped her utterance with her breath, “I know what happened that night.”

“What do you mean?” Sunil asked nervously.

“I saw and heard everything that night. I saw Raman, Prabhat, and Uday jump off our fence wall. I heard them open the patio door. I heard the entire conversation. I know more than you know. What you don’t know is … that it was my idea. It was my plan. I conceived it.” Kriti paused while her son stood motionless as if he had seen his own dead body resuscitating itself. He did not know what to ask his mother because he knew she was not bluffing.

“Raman came to my office to tell me what you were doing to that poor Elina. She had told him about those photographs. Raman begged me for help. I have two daughters—24 and 21. You know how I felt when I heard that you were blackmailing that poor girl? I felt like someone was blackmailing my Pallu. You pathetic evil soul, how could you not relate that girl to your sisters? You felon …

“I was so sickened by you that I came up with the idea of blackmailing a blackmailer. You thought nobody knew about your fake certificate. Prabhat’s cousin went to same institute. Raman already knew about your expulsion, but he never used it against you. I knew about your expulsion a long time ago. I was your official guardian; your college had sent me a letter. I gave you four years to confess, but you never came clean … How do you think they entered the house that night? I kept the patio door open …

“I told Raman to scare you off in your own house. I gave Raman that expulsion letter to blackmail you back, so he got those photographs from you … You were applying for universities in America, and I knew that it would kill you to find out that other people knew about your secret. You are not Ashim. I know how much Uday scares you. It was my idea to have Uday blackmail you instead of Raman or Prabhat. Without Ashim by your side, I knew you’d give in if Uday threatened you …

“Raman promised me that he wouldn’t bring up the expulsion letter if you cooperated. That fake degree of yours, we wanted that to be your filthy little secret. When they went inside your room, I was outside listening, worried sick about my son. I don’t know where the guilt came from, but I was sick to my stomach for plotting against my own son, who is nothing but a thug. I stood there and listened to everything. I heard you deny blackmailing Elina. I heard you deny about the photographs. I heard Uday blackmail you. Then I heard you open your closet. I heard you telling them “Get out.” You didn’t even look at the letter before you tore it into pieces. The university had addressed that letter to me … You know what else I saw?”

“Stop,” Sunil cried. He knew what she was going to tell him.

“I saw them leave…” Kriti resumed with the same monotonous tone. “When you screamed for help I was on the phone with Raman. I was saying sorry to him and he was saying thank you to me. It was 30 minutes after those three had left our house …

“Elina had dumped you. You were not getting admission in the US. You found out there were other people who knew about your fake certificate. You didn’t have a job. You had already sold some of our land in ‘Dhapaasi’ for your MBA. So you thought your solution was suicide. And you blamed that poor Raman who was just trying to help his sister … It was me who locked the patio door behind them. Raman had promised me that he would not let Uday touch you, and he kept his promise. I was there, listening, worried about my son who’s rotten to the core.”

The son was not surprised anymore. By then he knew his mother knew everything. He slouched on his bed and started to sob.

“How can you be so selfish? How could you not think about your family? Is that how you reward me for my lifetime of sacrifice? By hanging yourself? Tell me why did you scream for help? Oh poor you, did the rope hurt? You know what … When you hang yourself like that, you’re supposed to break your neck and die. Instantly. But you were dangling. Why didn’t you tie the rope tightly? Were you indecisive as always? See … even in the middle of your dying act, you decided to change your mind. Even your impulses are miserly.”

All of a sudden, she raised her voice couple of notches, “Let me put this in perspective for you … the only friend that you ever earned in your life almost died today because you could not kill yourself. You see the irony?” Kriti had hit the nail on the head. The son had never seen that part of his mother.

“Mami, stop.” He begged.

“How could you blame those innocent people for your own failed death? Raman had a reason for his fight. What was your reason for your surrender? Now you know why I was so against going to the police and having them arrested. How can I hold somebody else’s son responsible for the crime that my son committed? Tell me …

“When I untied you that night, and I saw you alive, it was not happiness I felt. I felt a burden. I wished Raman were my son. He never told Uday or Prabhat it was my idea. They knew nothing about me being involved. I trust him that he never told them, because Raman is like Ashim. He is not a coward. Only the cowards betray the people who trust them. Only the cowards quit living, because they don’t care that they have their obligation to the ones who want to live.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sunil finally, “I have no control over what I did. I didn’t try to kill myself because I don’t care about my family. Maybe in my own weird way, but I do. I wanted to go abroad so badly, I wanted to escape from my grief here… I was not getting admission. Elina had left me. I hated my job so much I quit. Nothing was going my way. For those brief moments, I didn’t see any reason to live. I snapped. It was an impulse that tested me the wrong way. The real me is the one who screamed for help.”

“The real you is the one who didn’t know dying is painful and irreversible. Then again, there is no real you. ‘Real’ is too strong a word to be used with ‘Sunil’.”

“Fine. But why didn’t you ask me about those photographs? Why didn’t you ask me about the certificate? Why did you hatch a scheme with my enemy?”

“First, your enemy is not Raman, your enemy is you. Second, if I had asked you, would you have confessed the truth? Would you have given me those photographs? I know you son, tell me the truth.”

“Mami, what do you want me to do? I know there are no excuses for what I did.”

“Answer my question first. Would you have given me those photographs? Answer me honestly. I need to know that because you have no idea, if you had died that night, the guilt I would live with, for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe not,” Sunil admitted before bursting into tears. “Tell me what do you want me to do mami? I want to make this up to everyone.”   

Kriti looked at her spiritless son, who always cried when he ran out of excuses. She felt sorry for him. “You made your bed, now you can lie in it … or do what Ashim would have done. I will tell you this much… I know he never told you that, but 16 years ago Ashim had seen you move that marble with your foot. Yet he was the one who came home with the broken nose. He was only 11, but he knew what felt right in his heart. He knew he needed to defend the weak. Chhoraa, you have done only one decent thing in your entire life. You have made one true friend. Don’t let him down. Do what that friend would have done. Make him proud.”

Kriti did not sound anything like the person Sunil knew. She did not stay in the room long enough to explain why.

*********************************************************************

“You guys want to play some marble?” Prabhat shouted at Ashim and Sunil, who were vagrantly meandering, kicking and tossing a brand new soccer ball to each other on the road across from Prabhat’s house.

Ashim stopped dribbling the ball, volleyed it to Sunil, and screamed back at Prabhat, “Whaakraa?”

“No. Gholera Khelney.”

“Who else is playing?”

“You two, Raman and me.”

Since his house was closer to Prabhat’s, Ashim asked Sunil, “Can you lend me some of your marbles?”   

“I only have enough for myself.”

“How many do you have?”

“Not many. Only enough for myself.”

“Hold on, I will go get my marbles from home.” Ashim told Prabhat.   

“I will go put the ball back in the house.” Sunil whispered to Ashim.

“Why?”

“I don’t want them touching my new ball.”  

By the time Ashim and Sunil arrived at Prabhat’s house, he had already drawn a rectangular boundary line with a broken piece of red brick in the paved area of the side yard. “We are playing one marble or two?” Prabhat asked.

“Let’s play with one first.” Ashim suggested, surveying the length of the boundary that was no more than 25 feet long.  

Sunil, Raman, Ashim and Prabhat started striking their small glass marbles against a piece of hard brick that rested on the first riser of the three-step side entrance. The brick lay five feet beyond the near edge of the boundary that Prabhat had drawn.

Every time his marble crossed the boundary line at the far end and he had to forfeit his turn, Prabhat would say, “Eeniharu chaadai taat holaa jasto chhaina aja.” In spite of his trash talking and sharp striking, he was losing.   

When their marble crossed the boundary line, Raman and Ashim did not make a fuss. They would pick their marble silently and wait for their turn in the next round. Though they played aggressively, they neither celebrated when they struck other marbles, nor they whined when they were beaten.  

Sunil was the most stylish and accurate striker. He knew how to play. He rarely lost his turn by over-rolling his marble. Most of the time, his marble traveled the farthest without crossing the boundary. That allowed him to pick up the first strike at other marbles. He had already won more than a dozen marbles.        

It was Sunil’s turn to go first. His marble fell good three or four feet short of the boundary line. He knew he was not safe. When it was Raman’s turn to strike, and his back was turned towards him, Sunil slyly moved his marble towards the boundary line with his right foot. He was certain Raman and Prabhat did not see him cheat. Ashim did not look like he was paying attention. He looked busy watching two white doves scouring the nearby bush for seeds.  

Unfortunately for Sunil, Prabhat’s elder brother, who was on the veranda, had seen him move the marble. “Prabhat, Sunil is cheating. I saw him move his marble with his foot,” he screamed.

Sunil flatly denied the allegation. Ashim came to Sunil’s defense. There was a big argument. Ashim lost his temper and ended up calling Prabhat’s brother ‘kukkur’.

Prabhat’s brother was three years older and much bigger than Ashim. He proved that by breaking Ashim’s nose. 

**********************************************************************

It was 10:30 PM. After four slaps in the face and countless surprises, Kriti had just left Sunil’s room, daring him to act like Ashim. Sunil knew what his mother meant, except, he was shamed when he decrypted why his mother meant what she did. Uday’s face kept on flashing before his eyes, and every time it did, he found himself clenching his fists beneath his consciousness. The fury was not incited merely by Uday’s being. He was driven by the realization of how he was perceived by his mother.   

He knew what Ashim would have done.      

Sunil took out a hockey stick from behind his closet and took a couple of practice swings at his pillow. He put on his leather jacket and boots and hid the hockey stick inside his jacket. He looked out the window to make sure that the street was dark.

Then he sat down on his bed to feel his rage.  

Sunil sat on that bed for 90 more minutes. He did not even move. He sat there and breathed. At five minutes past midnight, he suddenly took off his jacket and boots. He put the hockey stick back to where it was. He set his alarm clock for 7:00 in the morning. Then he turned the lights off and went to bed. Unlike Ashim he was able to bargain with his impulse.   

He had a very important appointment at the American Embassy the following Tuesday. He did not want to risk that opportunity by acting on his urge. After putting his impulse on trial for 90 minutes, he had come to the conclusion that his life was only dispensable for his own failures. He did not want to fracture his dream to avenge for Ashim’s facial fractures. He knew his would not heal the same way.    

The man with a fake certificate had a genuine ambition of escaping his reality.  

THE END