Chapter Forty Two: A Friendly Day Out

Graduation day had ended with a blur of lights and a whiff of undetected alcohol from the boys’ hostels. Kamal left for Kerala early next day to catch up with his business meetings. Praveena, however, had one more day in Bangalore. She had planned to stay in the hostel on Sunday and board the night train back home.

She and Anil met their batch mates. They had all changed so much that Praveena couldn’t identify most of them. Everyone remembered her though; people don’t forget the best friend of the drug addict who slit her wrist in a hostel room. Half of the girls pursued higher studies, but already gotten engaged. They were to use the two years of post graduation to get to know their future husbands.

It surprised Praveena that they had all so easily given into marriage. Among these girls were a few who, she knew, planned about marriage life, even while they were at college. Praveena kept wondering why these girls limited their ambitions, why they rarely thought beyond marriage. The thought left her blank and blurry, before she decided to save the thought for later.

The morning progressed without much adventure, except giving Praveena a mind-full to ponder. Her schedule gave Anil enough time to spend time with her; he took her out for lunch hoping to cook up a proper conversation.

Praveena suggested The Green Leaf, and a silent car ride later, they sat in the same table as before.

Praveena’s mind felt strangely light. Convocation was over, she was now an official member of a society she didn’t understand.

She had been wondering what to do with her life, and all of a sudden, she realized she had been staring at her untouched meal. Anil broke into her thoughts.

“Hey! Eat!” he said shaking his head in disbelief.

“Huh?” Praveena started, “Hmm,” she managed as she began to eat.

“What’s up with you suddenly?” Anil looked suspiciously at her. He raised his eyebrows, and Praveena noticed how they curved beautifully over his eyes.

She sighed in reply to his questioning glare. As he held his look, she said, “I spoke to Pa.”

“About what?” Anil asked innocently not understanding what she said.

Praveena exasperatedly heaved a sigh. “About the plan we made,” she said. And when Anil continued to stare at her with puzzled eyes, she continued irritably, “about the organization for drug addiction recovery. Remember?” she added mockingly.

Anil had to hide his laughter. Praveena threw him a stern look like an annoyed teacher glaring at a mischievous child.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” he tried to sound apologetic, unsure of the effect. However, Praveena said nothing more. She just nodded, lost in her thoughts.

“Hmm,” Anil dragged. He rubbed his chin, wondering what to say. “What exactly did your father say?”

“He told me not to do it. Said it was a bad idea.” Praveena said flatly.

Anil thought. “What do you want to do?” he demanded.

Praveena had been asking herself the same question. “I want to do this.” She said with an air of certainty. She would do it for sure. Someday.

“Then, lets do it.” Anil said simply. He didn’t understand, and Praveena wasn’t sure he would, even if she explained it to him. She leaned back on her chair signing. Anil looked at her for a response. “I can’t go against Pa.” She said dully. “I can’t hurt him. He’s already had a lot of troubles.”

Anil looked at her in confusion. “So, what have you decided to do?” he asked rubbing his forehead.

Praveena looked into his eyes impassively. “I haven’t decided anything.”

Anil, locking his hands, rested against his chin, looking at Praveena with a tiny smile on his lips. He said nothing for a while. He just watched as Praveena struggled within herself to discover what she wanted to do next.

Ten minutes later, they paid for a meal they hadn’t enjoyed and left for the hostel. Praveena had a train to catch.

Praveena comfortably settled in her seat on the train. Anil had come to the railway station to see her off. “When will I see you again?” he had asked, with a touch of sadness that Praveena hadn’t noticed before. “Soon,” she smiled, adding, “hopefully” with raised eyebrows.

Anil smiled as he waved goodbye. The train began to gain momentum and Praveena soon lost sight of Anil and his raised hand.

She leaned back in her seat, enjoying the drizzle that gently splashed on her face. She smiled. She had always enjoyed the rain. She loved the cold water running down her face, washing away all uncertainties and fears.

‘Speaking of uncertainties,’ he inner voice began, but Praveena was so used to shutting it out by now that she did it with ease. She knew she had to make a decision. Soon. She knew what she wanted, but getting it was the problem.

Could time fix problems? She wondered. ‘Perhaps,’ her inner voice piped in. Praveena turned to stare at the speeding trees through the window. Time meant that she would get older, but so would her father. Kamal hadn’t agreed now, and she wasn’t sure he would agree he got older. ‘But it’s worth a try.’ Her inner voice made a point. ‘Maybe it’s better to put things to rest,’ she thought. ‘Give Pa some time to think and reflect on the idea’. That could work out.

She smiled to herself as the thought lifted her mood.

Chapter Forty One: Freedom

Graduation day. It would be the first and last of its kind in her life, Praveena waking up early on Saturday morning. She lay on the cozy bed stretching. Her phone rang, and she let out a wide yawn before answering it.

“Hey,” Anil’s voice rang out enthusiastically. Praveena looked at the huge wall clock that hung above the full-size mirror. It was five minutes past seven o’clock.

“Hi,” she yawning again. “It’s only seven!” she complained.

“Get up, you lazy bones!” he laughed. “It’s the official independence day!” he said gleefully.

“So?” Praveena asked mockingly. She sat up cracking her knuckles balancing her phone between her shoulder and ear.

“Please get ready soon,” Anil pleaded. “I’m bored” he added.

She sighed. “Alright,” she glumly got off the inviting bed. “Give me fifteen minutes, I’ll meet you outside.” She yawned.

“Ok,” Anil replied happily and disconnected the call.

Praveena stood in the centre of the room, as she had done countless times before, and suddenly felt an impulse to call out to Niveda. She thought of those instances when she had called out to wake a sleeping Niveda. She looked at the empty bed next to her, and pictured the image embossed in her mind; Niveda’s lifeless body lying face down.

She sighed. The temptation to weep was overwhelming. Instead, she turned towards the bathroom, she had to learn to put those things in the past.

This time, Anil was determined to take Praveena to a restaurant she had never been to. They walked to a small hotel about five minutes away.

It was a small shack with a thatched roof and filled with the appetizing smell of hot chic peas gravy.

“Hmm,” Praveena sniffed the scent like a child sniffing her mother’s special recipe. “It smells good.” She appreciated.

Anil beamed and they ate heartily.

By mid morning, they were back at the college, walking around the large grounds. Praveena hardly said anything and even though Anil tried multiple times to initiate a conversation, he couldn’t. The most she replied to any of his false starters was with a single “Yeah.”

Disheartened after a few minutes, he stopped speaking and began to savour the rustling of the leaves that broke the silence between them.

Praveena’s thoughts had drifted to her father. He had called her in the morning to say he would arrive in Bangalore late in the afternoon, a couple of hours before the convocation ceremony. He had spoken to her normally — just as he used to, before he put his foot down at Praveena’s plan. He had sounded neither apologetic nor annoyed, but Praveena could sense a certain disconnectedness she couldn’t decipher. She hadn’t told Anil about her father’s reaction yet, but planned to tell him that night after the graduation ceremony.

Praveena sat in the second row with her father, Anil, and his mother. It was the first time Praveena had met the old, lean, and bespectacled Anil’s mother. She had worn a printed light blue sari and looked stiff as if she had just retired from the military and hadn’t adopted civilian life yet. She had shook Praveena’s hand curtly with a severe expression on her face. From where she had stood introducing herself to his mother, Praveena saw Anil and her father, a short distance away exchanging a similar interaction.

She smiled to herself as she thought of Anil’s horrified expression. As the principal got on to the stage, Praveena adopted a more solemn expression. She didn’t want him thinking that she had made a laughing matter of this graduation. ‘He wouldn’t be wrong though.’ Praveena shut her inner voice down.

The principal, wearing a yellow robe too large for him, began his address. Every time he lifted his hands in a welcoming gesture, his robe would dangle off his arms making it tough for Praveena to stifle her laughter. She stole a look at Anil who had a laughing battle on his own. She quickly turned back to face the stage.

The principal spoke of leadership and the importance of higher studies. He went a step further to mention of the role of marriage in everyone’s life. He said he was glad to hear a lot of the students had gotten engaged. “Marriage,” he said loftily “teaches you values of life that even college doesn’t.” Praveena’s mind had already drifted. She saw the principal’s face contorted in concentration as he made a brave attempt to deliver his memorized speech without a hitch.

Kamal listened intently, and next to him, Praveena could see Anil with his face resting on his hand. She smiled to herself as she thought back to their boring days in college, when he had slept in class in the same position without anyone noticing. She was surprised that even after such a long time, he managed to pull it off without being detected — not even by his military-grade mother.

The principal spoke for about another twenty minutes. Praveena watched him speak without listening. When all of a sudden, everyone around her applauded, she sleepily realized the principal had succeeded — he had narrated without forgetting his speech.

Her father turned to face her admiringly, “That was a wonderful speech!” Praveena smiled but said nothing. In her three years of college life, she had heard countless speeches like that one. She had been inspired too the first time, but as it continued, she noticed he was more interested in saying something rather than what he said.

A lecturer had grabbed the microphone now. He congratulated the students for making it ‘this far’ in life and wished them all the best for the future. Once that was done, he called the names of the graduating students in alphabetical order. One by one, Praveena saw as her batch mates went over to the principal – who wore a fixed smile – and collected their certifications. She glared in disbelief as they all smiled and posed for cameras flashing from all sides.

Anil went before her and she saw him step up to the principal awkwardly. He grew nervous at gatherings, she knew. She glanced at Anil’s mother when he collected his certification, and was surprised to see her wiping tears away, fumbling frantically with the camera aimed at her son.

When her turn came, Praveena felt a sudden rush of sadness. She had always imagined her graduation with Anil and Niveda standing beside her. She collected her certificate with a sinking heart. ‘Niveda should have been here.’ Her inner voice said in a low voice. For some odd reason, Praveena’s heart felt lighter as she imagined Niveda’s warm hand pressing over hers, comforting her. Everything would come to pass.

What Is The Point Of Breathing

breathing

“Breathing’s boring”

The more I think about it, the more I realize the truth in that statement. Breathing is boring. Day in, day out — inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Do it again, and again, and all over again.

Until — you reach a point where you don’t do it anymore. And — that’s all.

It’s like commuting. Like taking the bus to work; you keep going until you reach your destination, and once you’re there, that’s all. At least until the next day.

Breathing is a lot like commuting to work. For a few days, it’s interesting; you’d become aware of everything around, you’d identify some of the strain, you’d enjoy the view, go quick in some areas, and take it slower in some others.

But once you’re used to it, once you know what to expect, and the schedule by heart, it gets boring. You’d crave something more. Something more than the unnerving steadiness — of the commute, and the breathing.

Something to excite, something to raise the heart beat, a good dose of adrenaline. Without that, breathing is boring.

We need a change, a rush, a thrill. We need a life. A life that’s more than the 9–5 clock in and clock out. A life that’s more than going home to an empty life just because you have to. Because there’s no point breathing like that.

Chapter Forty: A Reunion

As the old and familiar college building loomed near, an undeniable sense of nostalgia cam over Praveena. She turned to look at Anil on the driver’s seat. He looked tense, concentrating on parking the car safely. He looked impassive, but Praveena knew that he too had run through their three years of college life in his head.

Once Anil had parked the car under a huge tree that bore his favourite yellow flowers, they got down, Praveena staring at the hauntingly unwelcome girls’ hostel building. They went over to the clerk who stood at the entrance, making note of all the students who would stay in the hostels. The current batch had left for the semester holidays, and the college appeared deprived of rushing sounds of hurried feet. Here and there stood old students in groups with parents and friends alike, chatting and catching up. With a lot of new faces, the whole crowd seemed a blur of unrecognizable colours.

Anil gave both of their names to the clerk. Once the process was done, Anil left for the boys’ hostel while Praveena headed over to the girls’. They had agreed to meet at the entrance in fifteen minutes. Walking towards the hostel Praveena had to cross the open valley facing the building. She thought back to the countless occasions she had sat on the lush grass enjoying the breeze with Anil and Niveda. She shuddered for a moment as the cold breeze ruffled her loosely tied hair.

The room she had shared with Niveda seemed so different to Praveena now. The beds were there, and so was the full-sized mirror facing the beds. But that was all that remained same of Praveena’s room. The walls she and Niveda had left plain were now taken over by posters, posters – Praveena realized painfully – of gods and – she slapped her forehead hard – child celebrities.

She looked around the room in despair. Her room – their room — had been contaminated. She didn’t want to stay here. It would pollute the unforgettable memories she had shared in that same room with Niveda.

She turned to leave. She would ask the warden for a change of room. But just as she turned towards the door, a powerful whiff of scent caught her unawares. She froze in mid-step. She knew that smell only too well. She turned, and on the dressing table was a can of talcum powder – the same brand Niveda had used.

Praveena didn’t know how she had caught the scent. It hadn’t been in the air when she came into the room, that she was sure of. ‘Then how did it suddenly spread?’ Praveena felt a chill in her spine. She had an inescapable feeling that Niveda was there, in the room, with her. Praveena wasn’t scared, but she didn’t believe in ghosts either.

She could however, sense Niveda. She had stayed in the same room for a year and a half after Niveda had committed suicide next to her bed, but it was the first time Praveena had felt like this; the feeling that her’s was not the only breathing. She stood there, unmoving, and not knowing why, but she waited. Praveena half expected Niveda’s form to materialize in front of her. Nothing happened for a while, until, Praveena’s phone rang, shattering the silence in the room.

She answered with fumbling fingers, “Hello?” she meant to be tentative and was surprised to hear it irritable.

“Hey!” Anil shouted from the other end. “Where are you? I’m waiting,” he said annoyed.

Praveena shook herself mentally, “Huh? Yeah, I’m coming.” she made to leave the room. As she shut the door behind her, she still felt the silence reverberating within the room. She signed, and turned towards the college building, wiping tears off her eyes.

“Where were you?” Anil exclaimed as she walked up to him. “What happened?” he added concerned as she reached his side. Praveena shook her head in response and Anil spoke of it no more. Together, they walked towards the parked Mercedes.

“Any plans?” Praveena asked Anil, her hand caressing the handle of the car.

“Yeah,” Anil said looking disconcerted. “Breakfast,” he smiled as she looked at him questioningly. Now that he had mentioned it, Praveena felt so hungry it surprised her how she hadn’t noticed it earlier.

She wondered if she should tell Anil about what had happened in the room, but decided against it. ‘It’s not a good time,’ her inner voice agreed with her. ‘He’d think you had gone mad with hunger.’

Anil had already gotten into the car and gestured her to follow suit. She got in silently, her stomach rumbling. She watched in silence as Anil manoeuvred the car from the parking spot and drove away from the college into the busy thronging town of Bangalore.

“You know,” she spoke after awhile, “for a moment there, I thought you’d suggest eating in the college canteen.” she smiled relieved.

Anil laughed, taking her by surprise. “Actually, they did plan it,” he said laughing harder at Praveena’s look of wide-eyed horror. “But we told them to spare the trouble,” he finished, still smiling.

Praveena shook her head. “So, where are we headed?” she asked impatiently. Neatly laid streets and rich cars did nothing to divert Praveena’s attention away from her growling stomach.

After what seemed like thirty minutes, Anil pulled by by a huge restaurant. Getting down he said, “You haven’t been here, have you? Great food.” nodding his appreciation. Praveena looked at the big board that hung over the restaurant. The Green Leaf. She rubbed her forehead exasperatedly, but said nothing.

The restaurant was packed, and looked just like the one in Chennai, Praveena realized. They took the table in the farthest corner.

Once they had ordered, Anil leaned over to her and asked, “Shall I order a juice? It’ll be good,” he tempted her with a wink. Praveena shook her head, smiling. “In fact Anil, it’s the Chennai Green Leaf that specializes in juices. Here, it’s the local Kannada cuisine.” she said smiling mockingly.

“Oh well,” Anil shrugged his admiration.