Chapter 8

I woke up earlier than usual, and with no one on my head to parade me. I was baffled and completely thrown off by Jigar's confession. It wasn't a declaration of love. I mean he didn't explicitly say those three words but what he confessed was so pure and raw that it felt nothing less than true love. Hey, but I never saw him in that way. Should I now? And that made my insides churn instead of warm. My stomach growled for food and I made no hurry to listen to it. I pulled myself out of bed for another adventurous day...after all my life was nothing short of a potboiler.

Dad wasn't at the breakfast table nor was mom. The kitchen was silent. Everything was quiet. It felt like a dull day instantly. Was I so used to action and sound that quietness and peace seemed alien and something unmade for me? I was no good cook, could barely make a proper sunny side up, so, the only way to curb my hunger pangs was to drink a cup of coffee. Instant and a complete mood changer.

I took my cup of coffee to the window. Ours wasn't an exclusive view of the sea or the garden vistas. It was just a normally busy street, cars honking unnecessarily, small boys tinkering around bikers and car owners to earn an early morning samosa or jalebi for a quick wash. The overflowing water from the water hydrants was a sore sight. While we grappled with the shortage of water in our small house on a daily basis, the community pipe across the street would overflow its capacity even when there was no one to use. Ganga must be ashamed of the audacity with which the city dwellers wasted water in the name of abundance. I could only huff and puff at the ignorance of the local leaders and municipal corporators.

My house was located in central Kolkata, and the early mornings were perhaps the best part of the day. After a morning walk in the Maidan, uncles and aunties from all walks of life would throng here to catch a cup of tea with their daily dosage of adda. Kolkata was all about addas. Everyone here had an opinion and an interesting piece of news to share about the current state of affairs or on national politics or the next-door affair of a young couple. People here seemed to be happier using their energy to talk than put it to use. Kolkata is all about the intelligentsia who just make a lot of noise.

I am bitter and I prefer my coffee bitter. I have acquired a taste for it. Tea is really not my cup of tea. My sis found me arrogant and imitating the fashionistas of the city, but to me, it is simply a choice, a food habit I preferred. She is yet to experience the boom of the new-age culture of cafes and the insurgence of international brands and glitzy malls with her friends. I did put up airs of I know it all in front of her but in reality, I was as ignorant as her. This was a completely new world introduced to me by Jigar. And the buck stops at Jigar, again!

He has been such an integral part of my life since my teenage years; no wonder people or for that matter even we do keep rethinking the parameters of our relationship constantly. I think it's best I avoid clinging to him for my every need. People and eventually we would make peace with the fact that it is just friendship, just as we have been pronouncing. Am I chickening out of a situation? Am I afraid to fall in love with him? No. And I don't need to give explanations to anyone, not even me.

I was overthinking it? Perhaps. But the best way to avoid a nasty scene was to remain inconspicuous. And so, today onwards I am just trying to maintain a little distance and explore a few other things. (I know I am sounding vague...but that works to put my brain at rest. Otherwise, the guilt and the constant need to rant my problems to Jigar would eat me up.)

My coffee was cold so were my emotions. I was so lost in my thoughts that I did not notice my father standing beside me. He was contented with what he saw. This was what he had woken up to for the last forty-three years of his life here, and I doubt he would change it a bit for anything. I never understood him or his complacency. He was happy with whatever he had. All in all, he was a different species; a man at the end of the day was a greedy beast and I was greedy. I wanted the best life, I wanted everything I never had and...

"You should go...I really want you to go." He was still looking out while he said those words.

My reaction was far more subdued than I had ever imagined. I had been living this moment of euphoria in my mind for the past few days and yet...I just stood and nodded.

"Abhi, I will never hold you back. I want you to fly...higher... always. I want you to have the best and the most powerful wings to fly. And you know where the power for your wings come from? By embracing yourself and your roots. Unashamedly! You have the right combination of ambition and determination; there isn't an iota of doubt on that. But to go further; go beyond the ordinary will require you to stay true to yourself and your values."

My heart tugged a few strings of love and a great deal of respect for my father for letting me be. I just hugged him instantly and held him without saying any words. After a few minutes of being lost in the moment, my father spoke, very normally.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"No."

"Oh! Let's just quickly finish eating...we have to get your tickets booked and get you a bank account too. I doubt you will get a confirmed ticket...I will get hold of an agent."

I smiled. "Long day ahead...I need to put things in order before I leave too."

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I got myself a debit card and I was over the moon. It was a great feat... for me. My dad held bank accounts in the state banks while he got me an account in one of the top private banks in the country. I was so elated that I wanted to use my debit card as soon as possible...but I had nothing to buy. I had firmly decided that I would not waste money on buying any new clothes or shoes. I will wear the same outfits I had been wearing to college every day, so no opportunity to swipe that mean card.

Dad was looking to take care of the tickets. My excitement knew no bounds. In a few days, I would be living my dream. My hands itched to call Jigar and tell him how I felt. I wanted to scream in joy with him but the promise I made to myself was too strong and stopped me from floundering. Nonetheless, I decided to drop him a message to convey my happiness and let him know when I will be leaving for Mumbai.

Hey! Good News! Dad agreed.

My phone beeped immediately that second with an emoticon and a short message.

 Great! So so happy for you.  Sad you will be leaving. When are you flying?

The moron that Jigar was, he had the knack to mock me and hit me and my ego at the sore spot aptly. Flying? I didn't even know whether I would be travelling in a three-tier coach or sleeper class.

😠 I will let you know when my train is.

Ok. Busy. Catch up tonight.

There was no point replying to that with anything. It was meant to be the end of our conversation for the day.

That evening my father told me about the unavailability of tickets. I was disappointed but he assured me that the agent would work out something. Our dinner conversation was abrupt and for the most time hovered around my travel plans or recounting train journey or harassment that every common man faced while booking a ticket on a train. I could not ask for another option.

I had no choice but to travel by train. I could not afford to fly. My dad was already moving mountains to make everything possible for me. The least I could do was adjust.

Even after two days when the agent failed to secure a tatkal ticket; my father seeing my plight agreed to book me a ticket in Duronto. Though it wasn't a confirmed seat, the agent was sure that a ticket on the waiting list of two would definitely get confirmed at the time of chart preparation. This was a tried and tested affair and we were sure about the confirmation. The ticket had already burnt a large hole in my dad's pocket and I was guilt-ridden. I did not have the guts to ask my dad to book me a confirmed seat in tatkal.

The situation was so weird. Because no one in my family had had the luxury of travelling first class, let alone in a premium train like Duronto. I wasn't excited, I was tensed about repaying every cent at the end of the three months. There was nothing that even God could do if I screwed this up big time. And with only a day to leave for Mumbai, I finally realized how heavy my heart was at the prospect of leaving my family and my dear beloved –Kolkata.