SMS

“Hi Gud Mrng!” Raghav viewed the message on his cell phone and realizing that it was from an unknown number, he closed the inbox, put his cell phone in silent mode and headed towards the lecture hall, on the one hand cursing the unknown sender of the message under his breath and trying to focus his attention on the diminishing margin of utility that he was going to teach in the class, on the other. This was his sixth month in the college as a lecturer, the job that he had obtained after paying a hefty amount euphemistically called as donation, but which in fact was an unaccounted income for the management of the institution. Of course, his father had paid the money after selling a couple of acres of land, not without suppressed grief in his eyes and flood of tears in the eyes of his wife, Raghav’s mother.

Raghav had just been an average student but he was the only one in his family to have obtained degree, not to speak of a post-graduate degree. His father was very proud of Raghav but when Raghav couldn’t get any job, he was worried to death. Education had left Raghav unfit for the hard toil on the family land, not because Raghav didn’t like to toil, but Raghav’s father wouldn’t let his son, after getting such higher education, about which he had been bragging before all and sundry in the village, to undertake agriculture, for then everyone in the village would have an opportunity to make fun of him. “What is the use of spending so much on education if his son wouldn’t get any job based on his qualification? He has been a fool squandering away his hard earned money on a useless enterprise,” so even coolies working in his fields would say. He, therefore, had been left with no other option but to sell his land.

Immediately after obtaining his MA, Raghav had started working as a part time lecturer in one of the degree colleges in Hubli, but the remuneration was just enough to maintain him in the city. He had no future in that job as the college had been recently started and would not be considered for grants-in-aid from the government for at least a decade to come. However, he had a wonderful acquisition while working there, in the form of his student Bhavana, a cute, smart, young girl with husky laughter, which never failed to arouse him. She was now in the final year and both had decided to wait till she completed her degree. To wait to get married, that is, although he never specifically asked her to marry him.

Now that he was more than four hundred kilometers away from her, working in Bangalore, he had not been able to meet her for the last four months. Everyday he spent about three hours in public transport from his to his college and back. The remaining time was spent in the college preparing for and delivering lectures. During the day, at any time she might be pleased to send messages, and he could ignore them only at his own peril. And everyday at 9 P.M., it was mandatory for him to call her and talk to her at least for an hour.

What had been amusing initially had turned out to be a pain in his ass. Not that he was no longer in love with her, not even that he had found someone more attractive, but the pace of life in Bangalore, the demands of his job, left him totally exhausted at the end of the day. Moreover, he had to keep in touch with his parents, friends, apart from taking care of the unavoidable task of cooking for himself, in order to save money as well as eat something healthy.

That Bhavana is child-like even childish at times, came as a revelation to him only when it was too late. He was already deep into the vortex of his relationship with her. It all happened so fast that in hindsight it looked like the buildings and trees running past his window in the bus, in the opposite direction. Within a couple of months of her joining the class to which he taught, she had started coming to his chamber with problems and questions, seeking his help. When he looked into her eyes, he knew he was in love with her and soon he gave her a red rose, held her silky hands and told her what he felt for her. She started weeping, he doesn’t know why even today and allowed him to kiss her.

***

 

When he came back to the staff common room to have a cup of coffee, he remembered that sms. The number did seem familiar. In the last week, at leas a dozen messages had come from that number. Sipping the bitter coffee, he viewed the number once again. He wanted to call that number and ascertain who it was, but another message was delivered that instant, and from the same number. “Sorry, I sent dat msg by mistk” it read. But still he decided to save that number as ‘who’, which he was going to repent soon.

Late in the evening, when he had finished an hour of ordeal on the phone with Bhavana, he received another msg from ‘who’. It was a cheap mobile-shayri.

“Jindgi me kabi pyar mat karna

Pyar ho jaye to ikrar mat karna

Ikrar kareto us rah par chalna

Warna kisiki jindgi barbad mat karna”

Now Raghav was intrigued. If the earlier message was sent to me by mistake, why again the same mistake has occurred? Thought he. It might be some friend or acquaintance of mine, just trying to have a little fun at my cost. Or it might be some student… but he’d not given his cell number to anyone in the college, except to one colleague and the principal of the college. Both were in their fifties and hardly knew how to send an sms. They sending any sms, that too a cheap shayri, was totally ruled out. Now that he had registered his number for DO NOT DISTURB, promos, calls offering loans and credit cards, even membership of clubs etc had completely ceased.

He suppressed the urge to place a call to that number; at least he would know whether it is a man or woman, a boy or a girl. If it were someone he knows, he’d be able to recognize by listening to the voice. But he soon dismissed all this as trivial and went to his bed.

The next morning, when he took the handset to view time, he found two messages waiting to be viewed. Both were from the same ‘who’. One read ‘gud mrng hav nice day’ and another read ‘want 2 b my friend?’ Now Raghav was slightly irritated. He was sure it was someone who wants to flirt and even more sure that that someone was a guy looking for a girl. He keyed in a reply immediately, ‘I don’t want any friend. Already hav enough’ and set out to get ready for the day’s routine.

When he finished the first lecture, he received another sms, ‘wat do u want if not a friend?’ to which he replied with some anger, ‘if u r a girl under 23 yrs u can chat wit me.’ ‘y girl only, r u a boy?’ bang came the reply. Now he decided to play along. He replied, ‘I m a strt guy intrsted only n girls, but not 4 frndship’

‘den wat r u intrstd in?’

‘u can undrstnd, cn’t u?

‘u hav GF?’

‘no’

‘don’t hav lover?’

‘no. u can be if u r slim, hav gud figure & under 23’

‘I m all dat & more’

‘R u a student?’

‘Y do u ask? U want only students?’

‘No, any1 fitting my criteria wil do. Rite now I m busy. Bye’ he wanted to end the chat and prepare for the next lecture. ‘By 4 now’ came the reply.

###

Till late in the evening he was not disturbed. At 9 p.m., as mandated, he called Bhavana. She was a chatterbox. When speaking she would not care whether something is relevant or irrelevant. Once she started, he went on saying ‘hmm’, ‘yes’, ‘ok’, whenever she paused for breath. She would ask what he had for breakfast, lunch and evening tea, what clothes he wore for the college, could he catch his bus, how is the weather, and all such silly things. Then the conversation would end with ‘I miss you, I love you’ and a couple of kisses, rather the sound of kisses. It required immense patience for all this, thought Raghav.

He hadn’t had his dinner yet and he was in no mood to cook. He decided to go to a nearby hotel. When he reached the hotel, without thinking twice he decided to have a couple of drinks. Just when he finished his first glass of vodka, his cell phone beeped conveying the arrival of an sms. When the screen came alive for viewing the message, ‘had your dinner?’ he knew it was from the same anonymous person he had named ‘who’. He brooded for a while and finished another drink and replied, ‘ how does it concern u?’

Then immediately he sent another message saying, ‘I’d made it clear dat I m not intrsted in making friends. How do I know u r a girl?’

‘U can test me’

‘K wat’s it dat u wear under ur dress? Wat’s d size of ur bra? What brand of panties u use?’

It took a full fifteen minutes for the reply to arrive. When it did, it was, ‘I wear a slip under my dress. I don’t use branded panties’ and there was nothing about the brassieres. God, why am I getting an arousal? Raghav cursed himself. ‘k tel me ur name?’ he asked.

‘Not so soon. U tel urs 1st’

‘It’s u who’s strted chatting wit me.’

‘Vanita’

‘Real or imagined?’

‘Real. Urs?’

‘Vikram, Vicky 4 all’

‘Ok tho sounds phoney!’

‘Just like yours’

‘Wat r u looking 4 in me?’

‘Don’t know. U may be horny, just like me’

‘No, I m looking 4 a friend’

‘I told u I m not. U stil r persisting’

‘wat do u do wen u r ….like tht?’

‘I get lucky by meeting some1 like u!’

This chat went on and on till the waiter came up to him and reminded him a third time that the hotel is closing. Raghav had forgotten to order for his dinner and had a drink or more than his usual, and now it was too late to order. He left the hotel after paying the bill, thinking of the bananas he kept in his room.

Next morning he awoke with a heavy head and red eyes. It was the worst hangover he had experienced in years. He gulped a Crocin after a light breakfast and started towards the bus stop. ‘Hi, gud mrng!’ the sms from ‘who’ again!

‘Gud Mrng! How r u?’ he replied.

‘Cool. Wat abt u?’

‘Last night I had a couple of drinks more than usual. Now I have hangover, severe headache and loss of appetite’ He took time to type the whole sentence.

‘U drink too?’

‘Wat’s new abt dat?’

‘Nothing. I didn’t know it’

‘How could u know?’

‘U know who I m?’

Raghav was perplexed. Is it someone he knows?

‘No idea,’ after considering for some time, he thought it must be one of his classmates in the college and the first name that struck him was that of a close friend Veena with whom he had lost touch and added, ‘my guess is dat u r Veena’

Suddenly his phone rang and it was from ‘who’. As he pressed the answer button and tucked it to his ear, he hear the voice of Bhavana!

“You could not guess it was me? I couldn’t sleep the whole last night. I never understood you. How shameless you have been asking an unknown girl what she wears and all. You had told me all lies. You told me you do not drink! Now I understand you perfectly. You made use of me; you have never been in love with me…” she hurled one accusation after another. What an ass I have been chatting and flirting with some unknown number. He cursed himself for not calling the unknown number immediately to ascertain who it was. He had done an irreparable damage to the life-long relationship he had determined to keep intact. How fragile are human relations. All these thoughts crossed his mind while he was preparing himself for the explanations that might appease her.

***

Thunderbolt

People like surprises, only if they are pleasant ones, thought Shrishail. He considered his visit certain to give immensely pleasant surprise to Abhay, his childhood buddy.

It is almost a decade since he last met him. Why, he had not met him after the final year of their graduation. Shrishail had written a couple of letter to Abhay, but the latter never cared to reply. It was simply not in his nature to be writing replies to his childhood buddy. From some common friends, Shrishail had come to know of Abhay getting a job in the Life Insurance Corporation of India, and of his marriage to a colleague. Thereafter, there was absolutely no contact of any sorts. Shrishail had obtained a bachelor’s degree in library science and after six months of search, got an appointed as assistant librarian in an industrial concern in Surat, Gujarat. By then his father had lost his due to old age. He was working as an unskilled labourer in one of the sawmills. His job carried neither job security nor pension. All his life he had toiled hard and in the process had become frail, old and infirm. The two-room house he had lived in with his family all his life was a rented house, and it was in shambles due to the neglect of the owner. Since he was paying a meager rent, he couldn’t force the neighbour to carry out repairs and maintenance periodically. The owner would have been more eager to throw his tenants out rather than incur expenditure on account of maintenance of the unprofitable blocks he owned.

Shrishail’s appointment came as a godsend relief, to both his parents and the owner of the house. Within a couple of months, he took his parents along with him to the residential quarters provided to him by the company. It was a two bedroom flat located in a 6 flat building, surrounded by lush green lawns and his parents thanked god that they had been bestowed with such a good son.

The only thing that they disliked about their son was that he had fallen in love with a local girl, whose father was a junior engineer in the company. But they couldn’t help it. The girl Savita, was not only good-looking, she was good-natured too. She was very compassionate, lovable lady. Her father had six daughters and a son. Although initially he too had opposed the marriage of his daughter with a South Indian boy, he later welcomed it simply because he will be spared of paying hefty dowry, a practice prevalent in his community. After all, he had five more daughters to take care of.

She had turned out to be a wonderful and ideal daughter-in-law and above all, within a year she gave birth to a son. The joy of his parents knew no bounds. They forgot that she belonged to another community, another culture, far too removed from their own. Severance of their roots in the south had instilled in them homesickness, and a deep-rooted grief and the marriage of their son to Savita had closed the door for bringing a bride speaking their own language. However, they soon forgot all this and Savita was already speaking sufficient Kannada. Shrishail was happy for his parents, and his own joy was boundless. His work was sufficiently remunerative and fulfilling. But…

He too missed the place he had been brought up. He missed his friends, especially Abhay, who was the closest and the dearest. Separated by thousands of kilometers of distance, neither he could attend Abhay’s marriage, nor Abhay could his.

Abhay had been his friend since both were in fifth standard, studying in a government school. They were poles apart, as far as nature and character were concerned. While Abhay was a bully, aggressive, impulsive, adventurous, rebellious, naughty and mischievous, Shrishail was a shy, well-behaved, hardworking and intelligent boy. But they were attracted to each other for quite unexplainable reasons. Evil does have a fatal attraction. In height, build and looks, both were similar and both belonged to lower middle class families. Abhay had two younger brothers and an elder sister. Shrishail was the only child to his parents. Abhay, like an elder brother, protected Shrishail from other bullies in the school, and was a great company to him.

While in the school, there used to be constant complaints about Abhay, from schoolmates, classmates, teachers and everyone that he always managed to annoy in one way or the other. He was too fearless and amoral to be hindered by any considerations while carrying out his pranks. Sitting behind the girls in the classroom, he would join the ponytails with a ribbon. He would bring live mice, cockroaches, and even harmless non-poisonous snakes to the school to evoke fear for himself. He would lift his leg and fart loudly without any hint of shame on his face. When he was thirteen, he wrote a love-letter to a shy looking, frail girl who was a classmate and handed it to her while the entire class was watching. The girl took the letter and instead of reading it, she began to cry. When the teacher came to the class, he noticed it and asked her again and again what was wrong. But she wouldn’t tell. Nobody had the courage to tell the teacher for they too feared the consequences. The girl didn’t reply, and to her relief Abhay too didn’t insist for a reply. Shrishail was relieved that the girl had not complained to her parents, for he knew that her father was a butcher.

Shrishail would accompany Abhay on some of his adventures, which were somewhat safe. They used to steal guava fruit and mangoes from the backyards of some big mansions. Once he even smoked bidis in a cinema house with him. But the smoke brought coughs and he developed distaste for the fetid smell of the bidis. At times Shrishail used to be afraid of being a friend of Abhay. His admiration for Abhay’s audacity would be overcome by his sense of rectitude. But it was like he was under magical spell. He couldn’t just shrug off his friendship with Abhay.

Another incident brings smile to Shrishail even today. There was a certain Ms Verghese, a Keralite, just into her thirties and a spinster. She was the strictest of all teachers. She used to teach science. All the students, even some of her colleagues used to be in fear of her censures and reprimands. She was a strict disciplinarian and a stern moralist. Nobody had ever seen her even smiling. At all the times a permanent scowl was stuck firmly to her face. Once she was conducting a class test and all the students had been required to keep all their belongings outside the classroom, so as to prevent them from cheating. It couldn’t evade her keen observation that Abhay was putting has right hand in his trouser pocket again and again. She concluded that he had concealed something in his pocket. She approached his desk and asked him to stand up. He stood up and put his hand again in his trouser pocket.

“What do you have in there? What are you hiding?” Ms Verghese asked in a cracked but raised voice.

“Nothing ma’m,” Abhay replied with wry grin, which instantly raised her temper.

“I will check it myself. Take your hand out,” she ordered him and he complied instantly.

Ms Verghese put her hand in his pocket and she withdrew it with a jerk as though she had received en electric shock. Now her face turned red and dark with anger. “Get out of this class this very instant!” she yelled at him. He calmly handed his paper to her and went out of the classroom with an even wider grin. Later when Shrishail caught up with him, he explained what he had done. “I had torn my pocket and had inserted my cock into it!”

“Shit. It was a nasty act man!” Shrishail replied but he couldn’t help laughing. Ms Verghese was wise enough not to make an issue of it and thereafter she never dared touch any boy or girl in her classroom.

It was when both of them were in first year of pre-university course that Abhay took Shrishail to a corner of the city that he not even knew existed. There was a cluster of hutments with stinking open drains. The smell of illicit liquor wafted in the air. Abhay entered a house which had brick walls and Mangalore red tiles on the roof. There might have been two or three rooms in the house. A large lady sitting on the chair stared at them with a comical look. “What do you want?” she asked.

“What else do you have?” Abhay asked her in reply.

“You are too grown up for your age. You have money?

“I certainly do. How much?”

“Fifty rupees for once”

“I will give twenty-five”

“Forty”

“Twenty-five”

“Thirty”

“Ok” Abhay gave her thirty rupees. Shrishail hadn’t the least clue as to what this was all about. “That is for the two of us,” Abhay told her.

“Nothing doing boy. It is for one. Otherwise I will throw you out and won’t even return your money,” the lady said calmly. Shrishail had his heart in his mouth. He was trembling like a grass blade. “What is this all about Abhi?” he whispered. Abhay replied, “You are going to have your first experience with sex boy.”

“I can’t. She is an old woman. I can be crushed by the weight of her single leg.”

Abhay suppressed laughter and said, “Are you crazy? There is a girl inside the room.”

“Even then I can’t. I don’t like it here. I am nauseated.”

“She won’t return our money. Ok. You are too pusillanimous. You are not a man. All right, I will go. You just wait here.”

Half an hour later, when Abhay came out of the room, Shrishail was even more relieved than Abhay was!

***

 

What a wonderful day! Shrishail said to himself looking at the clear blue sky and feeling the feather like touch of smooth, cold wind. I am back in my city and going to meet the dearest friend of mine. When he entered the compound of Abhay’s house every thing felt so familiar to him and he almost felt at home. A man in his twenties, with brush-like thick black moustache approached him. “Isn’t it Shrishail anna?” he asked.

“Who else? And I think you are Adi” Shrishail replied with a warm smile and placed his hand around his shoulders. “You are as tall as me,” he observed. Aditya, whom everyone called Adi, was a younger brother of Abhay. “What do you do?” Shrishail regarded him and asked. “Got a readymades boutique,” Aditya said with a smile, “ in the main market area.”

“That sounds very nice! Is Abhay home? Today is Sunday.”

“Yes he is home. He is not keeping well for the last couple of months,” Adi replied grimly.

“Why? What is wrong?” there was alarm in Abhay’s voice.

“It’s a long story. Right now he is asleep. Let’s go to my room. I have too much to tell you,” Adi replied in a stern but stable voice.

“Last week we took him to the Medical Research Institute in Belgaum,” Aditya began as they settled comfortably in his room, “An Elisa Test for HIV was carried out and it turned out to be positive. However, the doctors asked us to have a second and more scrupulous test in Bangalore. But Abhay has refused to go to Bangalore and said he was sure the results from the Institute were perfect.”

It struck Shrishail as a severe shock and as the truth dawned upon him, he felt a seething pain in his chest. “What?” was all he could manage to blurt out. His face turned pale and he felt that all the strength he had had been swept away. It meant that Abhay was HIV positive and possibly the dreaded AIDS.

Aditya opened the window and slouched in the nearby chair. He too was feeling out of breath. “Shrishail anna, we haven’t told this to anybody, otherwise we all will be treated like lepers in the city. But I couldn’t keep it from you. After all, you have been the closest friend he has.”

After trying to compose himself for a while Shrishail asked, “How bad is he?”

“Too bad. May be another couple of months,” Aditya replied matter of factly.

“My God! Why is he not hospitalized?”

“Doctors said it is of no use,” again the voice devoid of all feelings.

“His family… I mean his wife and children…” Shrishail couldn’t complete.

“Perhaps you do not know that his first wife committed suicide by burning herself. That was five years ago. His in laws did not think it was a suicide. They lodged a complaint with the police and he was charged with dowry harassment and murder. He got life imprisonment. We appealed to the High Court and there he was acquitted.”

This was another blow to Shrishail, equally rude. His eyes widened and his mouth opened even wider.

“He did some time in the prison,” continued Aditya, “ He lost his job and then we took him into the business we are doing, that of readymade garments. A couple of years after his first wife died, he married again. He has a son from the first wife who is studying in the same school where you both studied.”

“What about the second wife?” Shrishail asked in a defeated voice.

“She too is ill and has been found to be positive too. She is staying with her parents now.”

“My goodness… The boy is all right?” Shrishail couldn’t desist from inquiring.

“He is clean, hale and healthy. He doesn’t know anything about this. He is a very lovable boy, obedient, industrious and intelligent; totally unlike his father,” Shrishail could feel an edge in Adi’s tone.

All along his journey, Shrishail had been visualizing how he was going to give a pleasant shock to Abhay, but now he was at the receiving end. He was battered by the shocks he had received one after another. He was stunned and felt as though he was in a daze, as if his soul had gone out of his body.

There was a long moment of stunned silence. Not knowing what to say or what to do, Shrishail asked, “May I see him now?”

“All right. Come along,” Adi said and rose from his chair.

***

 

If Adi had not pointed out, Shrishail would not have recognised the frail structure lying on the bed. There were only bones and bones and not even an ounce of flesh in the body. It was like a skeleton wearing clothes.

“Anna! Anna!” Aditya called out in a raised voice. Abhay slowly opened his eyes. “Look who is here to see you,” Aditya said. The eyes turned towards Shrishail in an unhurried manner and stared at him for a long long moment. Then there was a flicker of recognition.

“Shri…shail…” The voice was way below a whisper.

“Hello Abhi. How are you?” Shrishail asked, putting a lot of effort in keeping himself calm.

The eyes were filled with tears. Shrishail had never seen Abhay cry. He too began to sob. “It’s all right. Every thing is going to be fine,” he managed to say. It was a false assurance. Both knew it.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Aditya pointed towards a chair. Shrishail sat on it carefully. A boy, hardly eight years, came with a cup of tea and handed it to Shrishail. Shrishail didn’t know whether to accept it or not. Deep in his mind, there was some fear, although he was well informed about the dreaded disease. He took a couple of sips calmly.

Suddenly Abhay’s hand slipped from the edge of the bed. Adi rose quickly and held his brother’s hand and called out in alarm, “Anna!” Shrishail placed the cup on the table and approached Abhay. His eyes were open, but they were lifeless.

*****

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