Your Dreams Are Mine Now Read online

  Seeing off her batchmates and watching them leave the campus one by one, had left her sad. Just like them, she too wanted the joy of going back to her home town and spending the holidays with her family.

  She watched Saloni pack her bags too. Her family had planned a two-week holiday in Australia. She was going to join them. For the sake of giving her roomie company for a little more time, she had asked her father to send the driver late in the evening.

  They chatted happily about the college and their friends as the two of them stepped out and walked towards the mess. And just like that, Rupali turned around to look at their hostel block. Unlike other evenings, now only a handful of rooms were lit against the dark evening sky. She sighed. She could actually count them on her fingers.

  But Saloni tried to sound happy. ‘See, you are not alone. You have company!’ She said, trying to comfort her friend.

  Rupali didn’t say anything. She checked if any of the rooms on her floor were lit. There were none.

  Inside the mess the scene was similar. There was no one at the dinner table. Rupali picked up a tray and took some dal and a chapatti. Saloni said she wasn’t hungry. She said she would take a bite or two from Rupali’s plate. She was going home as it is and her family would be waiting to eat dinner with her. They sat at one corner of the table. Even though she had company, Rupali couldn’t eat anything. How desolate the noisy mess had turned into! she kept thinking.

  Soon another group of girls came into the mess. Saloni identified that two of them were from the third year batch and played basketball with her. She spoke to them and also introduced her roomie. The girls were not going back home and were going to stay back at the hostel for the entire holidays. They said it was fun staying back. They planned to go out for movies and short trips to nearby places.

  That was comforting for Rupali. It didn’t stop Saloni from asking her senior friends in the basketball team to look after her roommate in her absence. Everyone laughed at that. Rupali felt embarrassed. Saloni laughed too, but said she was serious.

  While they were talking, three more girls from the first year entered the mess. They were from the Arts stream. Rupali didn’t know their names, but recognized them by face.

  She was the first to ask them, ‘Not going home?’

  ‘No,’ they said as they shook their heads.

  Rupali was selfishly happy. She did not want to be by herself.

  All of them chatted on as they ate their dinner. Rupali felt somewhat happier that she wasn’t going to be as alone as she’d thought. Later, when Saloni’s car arrived, she hugged her and said goodbye. They promised to be in touch.

  The next morning Rupali got up early. The unusual calmness in her hostel hadn’t let her sleep for long. While she brushed her teeth at the washbasin, she heard a few voices. They weren’t from her floor but perhaps a level or two above. When Rupali paid attention to them, she realized they were two maids at different floors talking loudly to each other while cleaning the washrooms. She realized that in her abandoned hostel the voices had now begun to echo. The dark galleries and the still walls of her barren corridors reminded her of being all alone on her floor.

  So she stepped out of her block and went to the lawn in front of her room. It was still early morning. The chill in the air made her pull her stole tightly around herself. She shivered slightly as she stepped out, but the cold breeze caressing her face felt good! Her cheeks turned red. She breathed deeply. It wasn’t so bad being alone and she was beginning to enjoy the quiet!

  It was all so peaceful. A pair of parrots landed on one end of the lawn. They were perched delicately on the thin branches of the hedge that ran along the periphery of the lawn. Then they began chirping and hopping around. Rupali watched them attentively. It felt nice to see them. Their chirping soothing, like melody to her ears. It was a change from the usual noise in the hostel. New, beautiful sounds replaced the hullabaloo of the hostel.

  She felt like taking off her slippers and walking. She removed one first and stepped on the grass. The dew-laden tiny strands of wet grass tickled her sole. She enjoyed that moment. She then took off her other slipper and placed that foot on the grass, too. She smiled when she felt a fresh tickling sensation. She walked around barefoot, happily exploring the pleasant damp earth underneath her feet and appreciating how beautiful that morning actually was. For a while, she forgot that she had not gone back home.

  The chirping of the birds caught her attention again. She turned to look at the two of them. She observed how they jumped from one branch to the other. At times they took a short flight to move to the other side of the hedge. And on some instances, they came looking for something to eat on the ground.

  Watching them pecking in the grass, Rupali became curious about what they were eating. She walked towards them to observe them from a closer distance.

  But unfortunately, the pair sensed a potential threat in Rupali. Even before Rupali could move closer, the pair flew away.

  ‘Oh wait!’ Rupali shouted, her arms raised in their direction while her eyes followed them. She was sad to see them fly away. She shouldn’t have disturbed them, she thought sadly. She then looked around to see if there were any more birds to give her company.

  She found none.

  And that’s when her tulsi plant caught her eye. She walked towards it to see how much it had grown. She had been so caught up with her exams that she hadn’t found any time to take care of it. It was the gardener who had been watering it and maintaining it along with other plants in the lawns.

  Rupali bent down and ran her fingers across the little branches. There were now tiny flowers on their tips. The strong fragrance of tulsi filled her nostrils and she inhaled deeply.

  ‘Ah!’ she exclaimed. ‘Look how big you have grown!’ she said and kept caressing the plant as if it were a little puppy. She’d read somewhere that plants too responded to human touch and grew stronger when they were talked to.

  She felt like it was only yesterday, that she had planted it. It was only a little sapling back then. Her thoughts went to Arjun. It seemed like yesterday when she’d first met Arjun at this very place for the first time. She wondered how her perception about him had completely changed. From a senior who she thought was a bully, she now felt that he was a caring person. They had seen a lot of each other and so much had happened in the past six months. She thought about Raheema and her life. How that poor lady had undergone such a miserable life for so long. She wondered how many Raheemas would have lived a similar horrible life, scared to speak up and dying a new death every day. Even though it had been a month since Mahajan was in the lock-up, she still found it difficult to accept how the entire episode had unfolded and had such a favourable ending. She thought she had just got lucky that she had the evidence. But then, in her heart, she also knew that luck follows those who seldom include it in their plans.

  The sun was finally up in the east. It had already begun to form a patch of warmth in front of her. She sat on the slightly damp grass and stretched both her legs into the sun. She felt nice when the morning rays fell on her wet feet. Minute green, yellow and brown strands of grass along with dirt clung to the base of her feet. They filled in the gaps of her toes and soiled her soles. She sat back and relaxed. Life had been good so far.

  Later in the day, after she had her breakfast, Rupali went to visit a nearby Krishna temple. This was the temple she otherwise used to visit every Sunday. But today she’d felt like visiting it again. It was better than sitting idle. She’d asked a couple of friends if they wanted to go, but all had refused. So she’d started on her own. The temple was hardly any distance from the hostel.

  As Rupali walked up the steps of the temple, she felt at peace but a little alone. ‘I wish I’d not come alone,’ she thought. But just as she was about to take off her shoes, something pleasant happened. She saw a familiar face. He’d spotted her before she saw him and had stopped. She smiled.

  It was Arjun.

  Fifteen

 
; ‘You haven’t gone back?’ Arjun asked as soon as he came near her.

  Rupali shook her head. ‘No,’ she said and smiled. Unexpectedly bumping into Arjun had made her feel a bit happy and relieved.

  ‘Why so?’ Arjun asked, while offering a share of his prasad to Rupali.

  Rupali told him the reason and then took a bit of the prasad because she knew she would get her share when she went in. And then there was a pause in their conversation. There was nothing to talk about.

  ‘You go ahead and offer your prayers. I’ll wait here,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘Okay,’ she nodded and smiled.

  ‘Don’t take too long,’ he said. This time with a big grin on his face. And there he stood, exactly as she had seen him for the first time, his arms folded across his chest and his head tilted slightly to the right.

  Any other time, Rupali would not have wanted anyone to wait for her. But now that Arjun was the only familiar person at a time when every friend had gone on a holiday, she felt warm and happy that he was there for her.

  ‘Yes, not more than five minutes!’ Rupali said and almost ran up the steps.

  It’s not that Arjun and Rupali hadn’t been in touch after the Mahajan episode got over. But then the preparation leaves and semester exams had interrupted their casual interactions. To add to the gap was the fact that Arjun was a localite while Rupali stayed in the hostel.

  Rupali kept her word and got back on time. Arjun was busy on a phone call. She waited for him to finish and when Arjun noticed her at the entrance gate, he hung up.

  ‘Here. Take this,’ she immediately offered her share of the prasad to him. Arjun smiled and took it.

  Then Rupali wondered whether they were going to continue talking at the entrance of the temple or would soon go in different directions. And as if Arjun had read her mind, he asked whether she would like to go to a nearby dhaba. ‘I haven’t had my breakfast and the cook at the dhaba makes really good paranthas.’

  Rupali didn’t have any plans for the day, so she didn’t mind the idea. But she’d already had her breakfast and said so. ‘I’ve had my breakfast,’ she said, making a sorry face.

  ‘Then have a cup of tea. This guy makes very good ginger tea, too!’ Arjun said immediately.

  She looked up to his face and nodded.

  ‘You love tea, don’t you?’ he asked as they walked towards the dhaba on a street full of pedestrians and hawkers.

  ‘Yes, how did you know?’ she asked, surprised. Adding to the chaos around them were the shouts of the roadside vendors who were offering low-cost items at equally low prices and the noisy customers who still wanted more discounts.

  ‘Just like that,’ he said with a naughty twinkle in his eyes.

  Rupali stood there, surprised. Arjun didn’t seem like an ordinary guy. There was something very warm about him, something that made her feel nice.

  ‘Now are you coming or not?’ he asked.

  She rushed to be by his side and then they walked together.

  ‘So do you visit this temple every day?’ she asked.

  ‘Hmm . . . yes, almost,’ he said.

  In her mind, Rupali conjured up a new image of Arjun, a religious one.

  A gush of hot white steam rising up from the hot bed of a big iron tawa welcomed Rupali to the dhaba. Inside were a dozen plastic tables with chairs on each side. There were a lot of people inside and it appeared to Rupali that everyone was having paranthas! The warm air carried an aroma of freshly made paranthas good enough to tickle anyone’s appetite.

  Even on a mildly cold morning, the warm air felt nice.

  Arjun was greeted by someone at the cash counter. He stopped by for a little chat. Rupali realized that he must have been a frequent customer. By the time Arjun got inside, Rupali had already taken a table.

  ‘I have ordered for gobi paranthas. Are you sure you don’t want any?’ he asked, pushing his chair back to sit.

  ‘Yes,’ Rupali said politely. ‘I’ll have some tea in a while,’ she replied.

  ‘Okay, your choice. You are missing something really good!’

  ‘So how much time do you spend praying every time you visit the temple?’ she asked, trying to change the topic. She was curious about how religious a man Arjun was.

  ‘I don’t pray,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean you don’t pray?’

  ‘I visit the temple because I love the prasad,’ he laughed.

  Rupali looked at his face. He smiled. She blushed. She had been right. He wasn’t an ordinary guy, at least not for her.

  Then, thankfully, the food arrived—two hot paranthas with a bowl of curd, a thick slice of butter served separately on translucent paper with some Pachranga pickle.

  ‘Hmm . . .’ Arjun stared at his awesome-looking mouth-watering plate. He then peeled out the slice of butter from the paper and dropped it right at the centre of one of the two paranthas. He then sprinkled some black pepper on the curd. In no time, the butter melted and two tiny streams of it ran in two opposite directions.

  Rupali watched. She was smiling. The flavour-laden vapours were indeed making it all look delicious. She wondered if she should have ordered one too.

  ‘Hmm . . . delicious!’ Arjun said with his eyes closed. His complete focus was on relishing the taste as he took his first bite.

  Rupali enjoyed watching him.

  ‘You must have this!’ Arjun said the next time he looked at Rupali while trying to dip his next bite in the bowl of curd.

  ‘I would have loved to, but I have already had my breakfast. But next time for sure.’ Then she asked again, ‘So you visit the temple only for its prasad?’

  Arjun nodded, unable to open his mouth which was stuffed with a big bite.

  Rupali looked amused.

  ‘Do you know where one can find the best prasad in the entire Delhi?’

  ‘I never ranked temples based on how delicious the prasad served there is!’ Rupali answered. She wondered what sort of a daily-temple-going man Arjun actually was!

  Arjun licked the tips of his greasy buttery fingers.

  Rupali stared.

  ‘Desi food! Desi style! Well, I just can’t help it. This whole thing is so addictively delicious!’ he said.

  Rupali laughed. ‘Addictive!’

  She could clearly see Arjun’s madness about paranthas, so the adjective suited him. As a matter of fact, she sort of liked that childlike happiness in Arjun’s nature. She tried to relate this to the Arjun who had helped her fight against Mahajan.

  ‘Bangla Sahib gurudwara,’ Arjun said abruptly, breaking her thoughts.

  ‘Sorry. What?’

  ‘The place where you get the best prasad in Delhi, Bangla Sahib gurudwara,’ he repeated self-absorbedly.

  Rupali slapped her forehead. She was amused at how he still hadn’t moved on from the topic of prasads. She found it difficult not to smile.

  ‘So you go to all religious places? I mean you believe in all religions?’ she asked curiously.

  But Arjun had just stuffed yet another bite into his mouth. Bite by bite both the paranthas had vanished from Arjun’s plate. What was left on his butter-coated plate were bits of cauliflower, onions and coriander. They were next on his radar. He stuck his finger on them and licked them off too.

  Rupali made a face.

  ‘We shouldn’t waste food!’ he said mischievously, looking completely satisfied and slumping back in his chair. ‘Shall I order tea for you now?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Great!’ Arjun said shouted, ‘Bhaiya do chai chahiye aur saath mein ek aur parantha.’ (Two teas and one parantha, please.)

  ‘One more? You are still hungry?’ This time Rupali was not so surprised. By now she had a fair idea of what a foodie Arjun was. A man who ranks temples as per the taste of their prasads!

  ‘See, unlike a potato or, for that matter, cheese, cauliflower is a seasonal vegetable. In the winter cauliflower tastes the best. So, since winters will only last for two or three mont
hs, it makes sense to eat as many as possible during this time,’ Arjun rationalized with his own crazy logic.

  Even though she did not buy it, Rupali enjoyed what he was saying. Arjun continued and mentioned mooli and methi paranthas, which too were seasonal. Rupali was quite enlightened with Arjun’s expertise on the subject matter that went as deep as mentioning the niche ingredients that one could include in the mixture of various paranthas. Dry pomegranate seeds in aloo paranthas and the slight inclusion of freshly grated ginger in gobi paranthas could take the taste to a different level.

  She was impressed. The breakfast back at her place in Bihar was never so rich and calorie-loaded. Not only had she enjoyed watching a man’s ‘addiction’ to paranthas, she had also found out that he had a fine knowledge of the recipes too!

  A boy arrived with two glasses of steaming tea and another plate of food with some more butter, curd and pickle. Arjun carefully tore it into two halves to let the steam out.

  ‘Wow! This tea is actually nice,’ Rupali said at the first sip of her tea.

  ‘See, I told you, this dhaba is really good. You must try eating this as well,’ he said happily and shouted to repeat his order for tea, even before Rupali could say no.

  Someone at the counter further shouted out to someone else to fulfil the order. It looked as if it was meant for a barely visible man hidden behind the steam in the makeshift kitchen. Immediately, Rupali stood up, looked at the counter and said embarrassedly, ‘Nahi bhaiya, nahi chahiye!’ (No, I don’t need any more!)

  The counter guy again shouted at some barely visible man, this time to cancel the order.

  Arjun laughed.

  Rupali sat down and looked at Arjun. ‘I can’t eat one whole parantha, but can I take a bite from yours?’

  Arjun looked at his messed-up plate with patches of curd here and there, and then at his butter-soaked fingers. He thought if he could have eaten like a gentleman instead of demonstrating and justifying his desi style to eat the desi food, he wouldn’t have been embarrassed. Now it was too late.