his stride to give me a cold stare too, as if to say it was none of my business. A few of my co-passengers who overheard me, giggled.
I felt embarrassed and became silent. I’d just seen bribe at work and not been smart enough to recognize it. It seemed all the people in the compartment had been trained by crooked fathers or been born crooks themselves. I felt angry at them. Why did they accept wrongs and open the doors to further harassment? Their acceptance only empowered the wrongdoers further. I could never be shameless like them. Had we all got together on this occasion, had they supported my observation instead of snickering, I was sure the ticket inspector wouldn’t have dared to glare at me for objecting to the bribery or confidently got away with his theft. I kept to myself for the rest of the journey.
At the railway station at Delhi I grabbed an autorikshaw to reach home. Earlier I had mostly traveled by bus in this city, but today felt I needed to impress my neighbors in case someone watching the road especially from Shalini's balcony saw me arrive . I might not be in a private sector job, but was nonetheless working in the area of software programming, which was an area much in demand in the market.
They needn't know I’d traveled in a non-AC compartment, but they should see me alight from a three wheeler autorikshaw. It was the sign of being able to pay for life’s comforts, howsoever small- in some ways an indication of growing prosperity. Had I been smarter I might have thought of hiring a taxi at the station to impress her further, but it didn’t occur to me to boast that far.
I reached home with flourish. However, no one saw me alight from the autorikshaw, so it was wasted money. Mother was delighted at my surprise visit. Father was at the office, being on the last leg of his job prior to retirement. My brother, Sujat, was in office too. His wife smiled at me. She was busy with her newborn.
Immediately I set about trying to find my heartthrob's whereabouts. The year I’d spent away from her in Bangalore seemed like a decade. To my chagrin I learned she was traveling and her mother had no idea when she’d return, unless she was avoiding letting me know. As I sat in their house fidgeting under the stare of the grumpy woman who’d started withdrawing her favors from me, her father entered the house with a flustered look, carrying a packet in one hand.
“What’s the matter, uncle?” I asked, thankful for the distraction.
“Ragini’s very ill,” her mother answered coldly. “Our hands are quite full with her, so you might feel bored if you planned on staying here longer.”
Mr. Nanda shook his head. “No problem, son. You can sit.” He handed the packet in his hand to his wife, and turned to me. “How’s Bangalore?”
“Quite nice, uncle,” I replied courteously and looking around uncomfortably, summoned the courage to repeat my query about his elder daughter that his wife had earlier disposed off casually. “By the way, when’s Shalini back?”
“We’ve no idea, son. Her tours are always like that. Often she herself doesn’t know when she’d return.”
So his wife had not lied. The news was disheartening all the same, to have no inkling of her coordinates. I had so much to discuss with her. How would I spend my vacation without her? In this state of mind, I might as well share her parents’ concern for their younger daughter’s illness.
“What’s the matter with Ragini, uncle?”
“It’s been over four months that she’s running fever- always around 102F. We’ve visited three doctors in three different hospitals and repeated several blood as well as urine tests, besides X-rays as well. But everything’s normal.”
“Was she tested for malaria?”
“Everything, son,” Nanda replied in a forlorn voice. “Malaria, typhoid, everything. I guess we’ve covered most pathology tests.”
“How’s her appetite?”
“Normal. A doctor did suspect some problem with
I felt embarrassed and became silent. I’d just seen bribe at work and not been smart enough to recognize it. It seemed all the people in the compartment had been trained by crooked fathers or been born crooks themselves. I felt angry at them. Why did they accept wrongs and open the doors to further harassment? Their acceptance only empowered the wrongdoers further. I could never be shameless like them. Had we all got together on this occasion, had they supported my observation instead of snickering, I was sure the ticket inspector wouldn’t have dared to glare at me for objecting to the bribery or confidently got away with his theft. I kept to myself for the rest of the journey.
At the railway station at Delhi I grabbed an autorikshaw to reach home. Earlier I had mostly traveled by bus in this city, but today felt I needed to impress my neighbors in case someone watching the road especially from Shalini's balcony saw me arrive . I might not be in a private sector job, but was nonetheless working in the area of software programming, which was an area much in demand in the market.
They needn't know I’d traveled in a non-AC compartment, but they should see me alight from a three wheeler autorikshaw. It was the sign of being able to pay for life’s comforts, howsoever small- in some ways an indication of growing prosperity. Had I been smarter I might have thought of hiring a taxi at the station to impress her further, but it didn’t occur to me to boast that far.
I reached home with flourish. However, no one saw me alight from the autorikshaw, so it was wasted money. Mother was delighted at my surprise visit. Father was at the office, being on the last leg of his job prior to retirement. My brother, Sujat, was in office too. His wife smiled at me. She was busy with her newborn.
Immediately I set about trying to find my heartthrob's whereabouts. The year I’d spent away from her in Bangalore seemed like a decade. To my chagrin I learned she was traveling and her mother had no idea when she’d return, unless she was avoiding letting me know. As I sat in their house fidgeting under the stare of the grumpy woman who’d started withdrawing her favors from me, her father entered the house with a flustered look, carrying a packet in one hand.
“What’s the matter, uncle?” I asked, thankful for the distraction.
“Ragini’s very ill,” her mother answered coldly. “Our hands are quite full with her, so you might feel bored if you planned on staying here longer.”
Mr. Nanda shook his head. “No problem, son. You can sit.” He handed the packet in his hand to his wife, and turned to me. “How’s Bangalore?”
“Quite nice, uncle,” I replied courteously and looking around uncomfortably, summoned the courage to repeat my query about his elder daughter that his wife had earlier disposed off casually. “By the way, when’s Shalini back?”
“We’ve no idea, son. Her tours are always like that. Often she herself doesn’t know when she’d return.”
So his wife had not lied. The news was disheartening all the same, to have no inkling of her coordinates. I had so much to discuss with her. How would I spend my vacation without her? In this state of mind, I might as well share her parents’ concern for their younger daughter’s illness.
“What’s the matter with Ragini, uncle?”
“It’s been over four months that she’s running fever- always around 102F. We’ve visited three doctors in three different hospitals and repeated several blood as well as urine tests, besides X-rays as well. But everything’s normal.”
“Was she tested for malaria?”
“Everything, son,” Nanda replied in a forlorn voice. “Malaria, typhoid, everything. I guess we’ve covered most pathology tests.”
“How’s her appetite?”
“Normal. A doctor did suspect some problem with
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