Straight from the heart…………

The beer bar was shrouded in shadows. The dancers gyrated to raunchy bollywood numbers on the makeshift stage while the patrons gaped at them.
A group of young friends in a corner chatted animatedly. “Shit!” said one of them, pointing to a couple of middle aged men who had just entered. “My dad is here!”
***
The private detective listened as the lady said, “I am sure my husband is cheating on me. I want you to get me the proof so that I can divorce the insect.”
After she had left, the man sighed as he remembered that her husband had been in the previous day with a similar demand.
***

As the sunlight faded in the cold and foggy December evening, most of the working girls hurried home.

Some had families to go back to while others went back to their respective working women hostels or PG accommodations.

However, for the girl with sad eyes, excessive make-up and cheap perfume, the day was just beginning.

***

Her husband was away to Bangkok.  

It’s a very important academic event and I simply can’t miss it, he had told her before going.

She had smiled in acquiescence while feigning ignorance about his real motive.

She picked up the phone and dialed. “Hi sweetheart, today you can stay the whole night if you wish…. “

***

The midwife had been struggling with the delivery the whole night.

 It was a difficult case and they should have taken her to the city hospital, she grumbled.

But the family was poor and could ill afford the transport and the costs involved.

At last, the baby arrived and cried lustily. She smiled in relief.

***

It had been raining the whole night.

The overflowing river waters were threatening to enter the little hut where she lived with her three children.

 They had all spent the night huddled in the middle.

It stopped raining in the morning and the sun peeped through the clouds bringing with it a message of hope.

***

Writing 55 word stories is getting addictive. Here is the latest….

He stopped his car on seeing the roadside lunatic.

Some Good Samaritan had left cooked rice and water on the sidewalk for the birds.

The mynahs and crows were having a feast and he was happily sharing their meal.  

He snapped a photograph on his mobile camera for his face book update and drove on.

A new form of writing for me.I tried my hands in this genre as an experiment. I am afraid that the results are, well,pedestrian. But anyway, take a look. 

Dear friends,

The Boeing 707 touched down and taxied on the tarmac while Tarun looked out of the window. It was his first look at a foreign country. No, not exactly the first look as they had stopped over at Singapore for 12 hours a day back. Tarun had chalked up many firsts in the past 48 hours, first look at an airport, first plane ride, first journey abroad and he was thrilled to bits. The fatigue of the 38 hour journey could not dampen his enthusiasm and spirit. They were whisked through immigration and customs and put on a beautiful air-conditioned bus with huge glass windows.

 “This bus is even more comfortable than the plane!” Was the unspoken thought in everyone’s mind. The bus took them to their destination, the Auckland Hilton. None of the boys except Rohan had been in such opulent surroundings and they were suitably impressed. They were given rooms in pairs and his roommate was Arvind Swamy from Chennai, the amiable wicket keeper of their team. After a sumptuous dinner, everyone retired for the night to sleep off the fatigue of the journey.

The next day was free and they were taken on a brief tour of the city. The evening was spent in the huge indoor swimming pool of the hotel.  Praveen Amre called a brief team meeting and addressed the boys.

“We start our practice sincerely from tomorrow. We have exactly two days to get in shape for the four day test match against the New Zealand colts. The playing eleven will be decided on the morning of the match. The tour selection committee which comprises of me, our manager Mr. Sharma and the Captain Rohan Joshi will decide the final eleven. Remember that you guys are ambassadors of our country and please do not do anything that embarrasses the team or our country.”

They went to the ground the next day and started practicing in earnest. June was peak summers in India and off season for cricket but it was the height of winters in New Zealand. And it was very cold. A chill wind blew across the field numbing their Indian bodies. Even the high altitude camp at Chail had not prepared them for such harsh conditions. Praveen Amre made them warm up and put them to work immediately. Tarum was asked to bowl at the nets but he gat tired just after four overs.

“Get used to the conditions if you want to do anything worthwhile.” Praveen Amre was merciless as he put them through the grind and tried his best to get the boys to battle fitness.

The day of the match dawned and a team meeting was called at eight am. The boys gathered in the Conference room, nervous and fidgety.

“Here is the playing eleven,” announced Amre and proceeded to name them. Tarun was in and he felt a huge wave of relief wash over him. The team proceeded to the stadium which was a beautiful lush green ground with a picturesque pavilion and few spectator stands. There was a sparse crowd in attendance and most of it comprised of tricolor waving  NRIs . Rohan went out for the toss which was won by David Ringer, the captain of the New Zealand colts who expectedly elected to bat first. Rohan was disappointed but Tarun was elated. He was going to have a go at the New Zealanders at last.

“I am playing for India at last.” He thought. “Under 19 today, tomorrow, who knows!” There were three pacers in the team and Rohan decided to start with Hapreet Singh, the lanky Sardar from Punjab.

Harpreet bowled steadily if unspectacularly and conceded just two runs in the first over. Rohan then threw the ball to Tarun and Tarun felt the palpitations as he walked up to his run up. The first ball was a wide. So were balls two and three. Rohan looked irritated as Swami ran up to Tarun from behind the stumps and asked him to reduce speed and concentrate on direction. The fourth ball was not bad but the opening batsman proved to be more than equal to it and drove it beautifully through the covers for four runs. And that opened the floodgates. Tarun’s spell of first six overs resulted in 35 runs without any wickets. Rohan changed the bowlers but to no avail. At lunch, New Zealand were 102/0. The day went their way and they ended the day at 320/2 with the two successes going to Harpreet. Tarun’s figures read as 22-0-109-0.

A weary and dispirited Indian side made it back to the hotel. No one felt like talking much. Amre did call a team meeting and gave a pep talk but it was not of much use.

New Zealand continued their domination on the next day as well and eventually declared at tea with the score-line at 555-4. Tarun bowled steadily on day two but went wicket-less. Rohan and Swami opened the batting for India and played resolutely to reach a score of 30/ 0  at the end of first hour. Then disaster struck and Swami was bowled by a scorcher. As Pradeep Patil, the one down batsman made his way to the ground, Amre asked Tarun to pad up.

“Just twenty more minutes to go. I want a night watchman to stand by.”

Pradeep and Rohan continued to play carefully but Pradeep was caught behind with just five balls left in the days play. While the Kiwis jumped and hollered and celebrated boisterously, Tarun walked to the middle. The pads seemed to drag him down and the bat felt extraordinarily heavy. Tarun tried to concentrate on the job in hand that was to survive five balls and deny the Kiwis another wicket before the end of the days play.

The tall New Zealander walked to the end of his run up and charged in. He banged it in short and it whizzed past Tarun’s ears before he could react. The next was straight and  accurate and Tarun carefully patted it back to the bowler. “Two gone, three to go.” He counted as he concentrated furiously. The next two were outside the line of the off stump and Tarun let them go. The last ball pitched at a similar spot but swung inwards. Tarun was watchful and fended it off before it could crash into the off stump.

Next morning found Tarun more confident. He started middling the ball and notched up a partnership of 30 runs with Rohan. That is when Rohan got careless. He steered a ball towards fine leg and started running. The fielder at deep fine leg had started running towards the ball and Tarun signaled no. Rohan had nearly reached the other end and Tarun was rooted to the crease. The ball thudded into the keepers gloves and he took the bails off in a flash. Rohan was furious. He mouthed a few choice Hindi invectives at Tarun and stomped off the field. Tarun’s concentration was shattered. He missed the next few balls, got frustrated and took a mighty swing at the next delivery. The ball flew high and went straight down to the long off fielder who caught it smartly.

As Tarun reached the pavilion, Rohan launched a diatribe at him.

“You stupid fool. You got me out deliberately. I will see to it that you pay for this.”

“But it was your fault. There was no run. You just steered the ball and ran without waiting for my call or looking at the fielder!”

“Even if it was so  you should have sacrificed your wicket for me. After all I am the captain and could have done something to save the situation. What did you do? You got out the very next over. Bloody middle class asshole!”

Tarun was shocked at the verbal assault and looked around for help. But nobody came to his rescue. The Kiwis never let go of the strangle-hold they had over the opponents and India had to follow on. The Indian team had been completely demoralized by then and went on to lose the match by an innings and twenty five runs.

The tour proved to be a disaster with India losing all three matches. As for Tarun, he never got a chance after the forgettable debut and was made to carry drinks for the next two matches. Maybe the Captains ire had something to do with it. Maybe Tarun did not belong to that level of Cricket. The team returned to India and an enquiry was set up to probe the poor performance of the team. Few heads rolled, notable among which were Amre and Rohan Joshi. Tarun too was dropped and not selected again. He gradually slipped out of the public eye and was soon forgotten.

Now Tarun is the Cricket coach of Christ Church College, Kanpur. His wife is a teacher in St. Aloysius School. He has two offspring and wants them to study hard and join a professional course like MBBS, B Tech. or MBA. He does not want his children to be sportsmen.

(Tarun was lucky. He did not make it big in Cricket but at least he is still alive and leading a comfortable middle class existence. Please do read Lata Ojha’s comment in Part III of this story)

The camp was slated to start after a month, exactly a week after Tarun’s Seventeenth birthday. Tarun had become a minor celebrity in Kanpur after being selected in the probables. A couple of Newspapers being published from Kanpur had run his interview and profile. Tarun liked the one that went ‘Kanpur lad en route to Indian Test team’. But the feeling of euphoria faded and was replaced by mounting anxiety as the date of the camp approached. Mr.Mishra applied for a few days leave and decided to take the entire family to Bangalore to see Tarun off to the camp. Tarun did not want to go with an entourage and another argument ensued.

“We will go four days before the camp starts. I have applied for LTC and we’ll stay at the Bank Holiday Home. Everyone can have a holiday. You go to your camp and we’ll come back home after visiting Mysore and Ooty.” Mr. Mishra suggested and Tarun agreed.

“But when I report to the camp only you go with me. I don’t want anyone to think that I am a small baby.”

Tarun reported for the camp in time. In fact, he reached the venue the moment the office of Bangalore Cricket Academy opened but was surprised to see that 22 out of the 30 probables had already turned up. The manager of the camp received him and allotted him a room in the Academy hostel.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Mishra, we’ll take good care of the lad. After all, he is a potential star.” He assured Tarun’s father as he took leave.

By evening all 30 probables had turned up and they were introduced to the coach of India under nineteen team. Praveen Amre, the coach was an ex-cricketer and a no nonsense man.

“Boys, I know that all of you were big stars in the places you have come from. But let me tell you that it amounts to nothing out here. This is a different level and a different ball game altogether. We start working from tomorrow. The day starts at five thirty when you’ll be woken up. The schedule is on the notice board and everyone will stick to it. I want no dissent, no arguments or excuses. And if you think you are in an Army camp, let me tell you it is not so, it is worse than that. The coaching will involve stamina building, weight training, psychological counselling, and of course cricket. We have two assistant coaches, a physiotherapist and a nutritionist. You are not allowed to go out by yourself without permission. On Sundays, you will be granted leave to go out. If you are tired and want some relaxation, I’ll suggest a few laps in the swimming pool. At the end of this month, I hope all of you’ll be ready to represent your country. Any questions?

By then all young probables were so intimidated that there were no questions.

The days of the camp passed in a blur. Amre made all of them work hard, discover new facets to their game and polish their skills. Tarun refused to eat chicken but was convinced by the nutritionist to eat a lot of eggs and by the end of the month he developed a taste for them. As a motivational technique, Amre invited cricket stars to the academy and asked them to talk to the trainees, sometimes even visit the nets. Tarun got to see Rahul Dravid, Kumble and Zaheer Khan. He even got to talk personally to Zaheer and ask him a few questions about different ways of gripping the ball.

At the end of the month, Tarun was in a different league. His muscles became stronger and he added many weapons to his armoury,  the most useful of which were the bouncer and the dipping yorker. His bowling action and run-up also improved and his confidence in his own abilities soared. He got along with most of the probables except one. He felt a particularly strong antipathy for Rohan Joshi, sicon of an industrial family from Mumbai and a stylish left handed batsman. Rohan, with his oodles of talent and superior attitude, was contemptuous of Tarun’s middle class background. He was also the guy who was particularly severe on Tarun’s bowling and meted out the maximum punishment to him in the trial matches. However, he knew that Rohan was tipped to be the captain of the team and therefore did not openly show his dislike.

The camp concluded and all the players were sent home. Before they left the coach addressed them all.

“The selection committee meets next week and the team will be announced after the meeting. The chosen sixteen will have a two week conditioning camp at Chail and then directly fly to New Zealand. It will be winters in New Zealand and very cold. I hope that the high altitude conditioning camp will make it easier for the players to adjust to that. Hope to see some of you at Chail. And remember, for those of you who do not make it to the team, it is not the end of the road. You all are a talented bunch and everybody has worked very hard. So there will be many opportunities even for those who do not make it to the team.”

Tarun returned to Kanpur and was back to his classes. But he could not concentrate on his studies. He did not even feel like playing Cricket after the grind of the camp. And he also realized that he had moved into a different league of the game. He just waited for the team to be announced with bated breath.  And when the team was announced and he was in it, the entire city erupted in joy. As is common in these days of media hype and instant stardom, the entire state of U.P. knew about the new star in the making by the evening.


To be concluded….

Tarun could not keep away from the Cricket field for very long and was back in the thick of action soon. But he did make a sincere effort to study, especially maths and science. The twin threats of the looming board examinations and Father Jerome’s pressure ensured that he spent more time studying and less in the field. And when he appeared in the exams he surprised himself by doing reasonably well. The day the exams were over he declared that he wanted to go to Lucknow for the trials of UP cricket team.

“You are just sixteen.” Said Mr. Mishra. “I don’t think you are ready for anything beyond Interschool cricket. But let’s do one thing. You start going to Green Park and hone your skills with the local coach. Train for a couple of months and then we’ll see where you stand.”

So Tarun went to Green Park Cricket Stadium, the erstwhile venue of many a Test Match which had fallen into disrepute over the past few years because of poor maintenance. Pawan Sharma, the Cricket Coach was an ex Ranji player and he looked at Tarun with a critical eye.

 “Good height and bone structure. But you are too thin. You need to build some muscles and develop some stamina. Only then can you think of being a fast bowler. Anyway, you report to me at Five thirty tomorrow morning. Come in proper kit and be punctual.”

Next morning saw Tarun reach the stadium with dreams of impressing the coach with his speed and guile.

“Run around the ground five times and don’t be slack.” All the young hopefuls were made to jog at a pretty fast pace with the coach pushing the stragglers. By the time the five laps were completed Tarun was ready to collapse. The coach gave them five minutes to recover and put them though half an hour of rigorous fielding practice. Then he gave Tarun the bat and made him bat at the nets for another half hour. Tarun never got a chance to bowl a single over. The same routine continued for a week and Tarun was not given the ball at all. He was willing to quit in disgust but at the end of the week he discovered that his stamina had increased dramatically and to his surprise he realized that he was batting well. He had never paid any attention to his batting earlier but now he was stroking the ball well. On day ten, when he was tying on his pads after the fielding practice, the coach intervened.

“Enough batting, son. Let us see if you still remember how to bowl.”

 Tarun tried his best to ball fast and ended up spraying the ball all over the place. The coach shook his head and went to work on him.

“Speed and accuracy.” He drilled into Tarun’s head again and again. “Develop speed and accuracy first and guile can come later.”

At the end of three months, Tarun was a transformed player. From a talented schoolboy, he had gone on to become a near professional cricketer. Meanwhile, the board results had been declared and Tarun had passed with 61% aggregate much to his own surprise and the delight of his parents. He was happy at last and had forgotten all about Sports College, Lucknow.

“I want to join Christ Church College and continue to practice at Green Park with Pawan Sir.” He told his father when asked about his future plans.

Tarun joined Christ Church College and was immediately selected in their cricket team. He continued to excel at the game and in six months had built up a formidable reputation in Kanpur and neighboring cities.

“The trial for India under Nineteen Cricket team will be held in Delhi in three months time. Gopal Malhotra, my old team mate is one of the selectors. He has asked me to take you to the trial as he has been following your progress and is convinced of your potential. But don’t expect any favours. Only a fair chance. From today you will start weight training to strengthen your shoulders and biceps. The time for practice will be doubled. You will also have to improve your batting further as that will enhance your chances of making it to the team.” Pawan Sharma told Tarun on the day he performed brilliantly in a Inter College Cricket match. “And I’ll have to talk to your father about your diet. You really need to build up some muscle.”

Three months later saw Tarun, accompanied by Pawan Sharma, reach Ferozshah Kotla Cricket Ground in Delhi for the trials. There were some two hundred young hopefuls and Tarun was depressed when he saw the crowd. Most of the young men were tall and well built and many looked older than nineteen years.

“There is no way I’ll be noticed in this crowd.”He said nervously. “Let’s go back.”

But Pawan Sharma was cool.

“Relax, son. I am there with you.” And he went to greet Gopal Malhotra and several other coaches who were present. The trials started in earnest and Tarum was made to bowl five over s at a stretch. He went flat out and tried to bowl as fast and as accurately as possible. Krish Srikanth, the chief selector noticed him and called him over.

“I am going to pad up and I want you to ball twelve deliveries to me. First six should be Yorkers and for the last six you can do what you please.”

Tarun was so nervous that he could not even reply. Krish Srikanth playing against him!!! He merely nodded and walked to the run up. The first three attempts resulted in full tosses and Srikanth hit them with elan. The fourth and fifth were wrongly directed and were left alone. Pawan walked up to him and patted his shoulders.

“Relax son. Don’t think that you are bowling to Krish. Imagine that you are bowling at a routine college match.”

Tarun nodded, walked to the run up and gave everything he had to the ball. The ball was beautifully directed, curved in slightly and landed on toe end of Srikanth’s boot. Srikanth hobbled over to him and patted his back.

“Now that was what we call a toe crusher. Well done, young man. Pawan, this boy has potential.”

The trials went on for three days during which all the boys had to demonstrate their prowess at all three departments that is batting, bowling and fielding. The selectors kept a hawk eye on the proceedings paying a lot of attention to the player’s innate athletic ability.

At the end of day three they went into a meeting along with the video analyzer who had caught all the action on camera and had all the clips on a laptop. The meeting stretched for hours while the players agonized outside.

A list of thirty probables was declared at the end and the boys were instructed to report for a month long preparatory camp at Bangalore after a fortnight. The final fifteen to tour New Zealand would be selected at the conclusion of the camp, it was announced.

In all, seven pacers were selected for the camp and Tarun Mishra was one of them.

To be concluded……

                                 

Tarun was bored. He hated studies. Of all subjects taught in the school maths was the worst. He waited impatiently for the bell to ring so that he could rush out to the field to play cricket. Cricket was his life. He was good, by far the best player of his class, even the whole school. On the other hand, academically he was the worst student of his class. He fidgeted impatiently; he wanted to be out there in the cricket field. He had spent the greater part of the previous evening watching IPL on TV. He had minutely observed the pacers come up with the slower one, particularly the back of hand delivery. He thought that he had picked up the trick. All he needed to do now was try it out in the ground. He seethed with impatience, while Mr. Rathore, his maths teacher went on about some obscure theorem. The bell rang at last, much to his relief.

 

In less than a minute, he was on the field. Sarthak, the captain of the school team and three years his senior was already padding up.

“I bet you will not be able to last a full over against me!” He threw the challenge.

Sarthak had a healthy respect for Tarun’s pace but he was a supremely confident young man. He accepted the challenge. “I’ll let you open the bowling against Jaipuria School in Sunday’s match if you bowl me out in the first over.”

 

Tarun picked up the ball and went to the run up. The first three balls were his stock deliveries and Sarthak negotiated them with ease. The fourth one was short and wide and Sarthak dispatched it to the boundary with the disdain it deserved. He looked at Tarun and said, “Looks like you have to wait a bit longer to open the bowling attack for your school!”

Tarun concentrated furiously and tried the trick he had picked up from the TV last evening. The run up and initial bowling action was the same but instead of banging the ball in he swung his wrist at the last moment and bowled from the back of the hand. The resultant delivery was much slower. Sarthak, buoyed by his earlier success tried hitting the ball in a similar manner. The bat swung much earlier while the ball pitched, turned and crashed into the wickets, sending the off stump flying. The PT teacher, Mr. Kapil, who was watching the proceedings with interest, was enthused.

“That is the first time I have seen this done by a schoolboy. Tarun, you have a great future in cricket.”

And that was the moment from which Tarun started dreaming. Dreaming of becoming a professional cricketer.

 

Born in a middle class family of Kanpur, Tarun was the youngest of the three siblings. No one in his family ever played cricket. His father was a bank employee while his mother a housewife. His elder sisters were both good students who dreamed of making it big in life through hard work and academic brilliance. Tarun however hated studies and was simply crazy about cricket. He had never thought of Cricket as a career option. It was just a way to run away from studies but from that day onwards, he started dreaming of becoming a professional cricketer.

 ********************************************************************

“But why can’t you send me to Sports College, Lucknow. Mohammad Kaif, R.P.Singh and Suresh Raina are all from there.” Tarun argued.

A raging argument was in progress in the Mishra household. Tarun had declared that he had enough of studies and was going to join Sports College, Lucknow after his ICSE next year. His father had a different opinion.

“The way you are progressing, it is going to be very difficult for you to clear ICSE.” He proclaimed. “Secondly, joining Sports College is a ridiculous idea. The students there don’t study at all. They waste some of their time on the field and most of it roaming around in Hazratganj. And don’t give me any nonsense about Kaif and Raina. They are talented and dedicated players and don’t compare yourself with them.”

“All fathers think that their son is useless. I don’t think I am meant for sitting in a classroom and mugging. I am a good cricketer and my future lies in the game. And by the way, even IPL level cricketers make bigger money than Bank managers.”

“Shut up Tarun. Even I was a good player in School. But I did not use it as an excuse to run away from studies. You are just in class IX and not mature enough to decide what to do with your life. And just because your sports teacher praised a delivery of yours does not mean that you have become a world class player.”

Tarun’s mother, usually a meek woman who rarely aired an opinion of her own was forced to intervene.

“Enough arguments, Tarun. Your father is right. Your first priority in life should be studies. Pay more attention to studies and score good marks in ICSE. We are not saying that don’t play cricket. Our contention is simply that at the moment your focus should be studies. And if you do well in ICSE, your father will take you to MRF Pace Foundation in Chennai and then you can find out if you are really any good. And surely studies are important. You don’t want to sound like Pakistani cricketers when they interview you on TV after you win the man of the match award.”

And thus the argument ended. Mr. Mishra was under the impression that Tarun would focus on studies for the next two years while Tarun had new things to dream about; MRF Pace Foundation, T A  Shekhar, Dennis Lilee and Harsh Bhogle interviewing him on TV after he won the man of the match award.

 **********************************************************************

The year passed quickly. Tarun paid more attention to cricket than to his studies. But his bowling did not improve beyond a certain point.

“You are not giving enough time to cricket.” Cribbed his coach, “Besides, you are painfully thin. You need more proteins. Lots of eggs and non veg food.”

Now eggs and non veg food were unheard of in Mishra household. Also, Tarun had dreams but did not have the discipline or dedication to work harder than that. And then came the fateful summons from the Principal’s office. Mr. Mishra received the call two days before the results for annual exams were to be declared.

“Mr. Mishra, I have a soft corner for this boy. I know he is intelligent and he is by far the most talented cricketer of this school. But he is just not paying enough attention to studies. Here is his result. He has done well in English and Computers, passed in Hindi and Social Studies but is failing in Maths and Science. If I promote him, he’ll be appearing for boards next year. I cannot compromise with the reputation of the school. Either he has to repeat class IX or join some other school. “

Tarun was shocked. Despite taking his studies casually he had never expected to fail. The possibility of repeating class IX or going to a lesser school was something he had not imagined even in his wildest dreams. He just stood quietly with a couple of tears rolling down his cheeks. Father Jerome, their Principal was a kind hearted man. Despite his reputation of being a tough disciplinarian, he was inordinately fond of Tarun and secretly hoped that the boy would amount to something in the world of cricket.

“I called you before the declaration of results with one purpose. I’ll give Tarun grace marks and promote him to tenth. But I want his solemn promise that he will work hard and pay attention to studies, particularly maths and science. If he does not do well in his pre board exams, I’ll not let him appear for ICSE. Now tell me what you want.”

Tarun was grateful for the lifeline thrown to him and promised to pay more attention to his studies. He also remembered his parents promise to send him to MRF Pace Foundation if he did well in ICSE and settled down to a year of hard work off the field.

To be concluded.

Rajiv caught the bus to Haridwar. He reached the city by quarter to five and stood outside HDFC bank. At 5.05 PM he saw Rajeev Jain coming out. He looked the same as he did in the pictures Rajiv had got from Poonam’s PG accommodation. He was accompanied by a smart young women dressed in jeans and top. They were holding hands and laughing over something.

“Well, Rajeev Jain certainly has good taste in women.” Thought Rajiv as he moved in to intercept them.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jain. I need a couple of minutes of your time.”

Rajeev Jain looked at him quizzically. “Do I know you Mr.…?”

“Doctor. It is actually Dr. Singh. I am the Medical Officer In-charge of PHC, Jhinjhana. I need to talk to you.”

Rajeev Jain’s expression changed at the mention of Jhinjhana. There was a sudden pallor on his face. But he recovered quickly. “Rita, my dear, please go and wait for me in the parking. I will just talk to this gentleman and be with you in a moment.”

He saw the girl off, turned smoothly and gripped Rajiv’s biceps with surprisingly strong fingers. “Yes! What can I do for you?”

“Well. I keep hearing rumors about a girl called Poonam who was found dead in my PHC. I just want to know if you knew her.”

Rajeev’s expression hardened. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I don’t know any Poonam. And let me give you some unsolicited advice.  Rumors are exactly that, rumors and should be treated as such. Now if you would excuse me, I have to go.”

Rajiv stood there for a long time, analyzing all the information he had gathered so far. He thought he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Rajeev Jain apparently knew much more than he was willing to divulge. But how could he help Poonam by nailing Rajeev’s lies? What was the actual truth? What had happened at the PHC on that fateful night? He checked his watch. It was too late to go back so he started walking towards Har ki Pauri. He spent the evening sitting by the side of the river Ganges, watching the multitudes descend on the river to wash away their sins and seek salvation. Will bathing in Ganges offer me my salvation or must I find a way to make Rajeev Jain speak the truth. He racked his brains to find a solution and suddenly he thought of Vikram Jadhav. Vikram was his class mate in MBBS. But he had been bitten by the IAS bug. He had tried the exam twice and on second attempt had made it to IPS. As far as he remembered he was in Uttaranchal cadre. A couple of phone calls yielded the information that Vikram was presently posted as ASP Haridwar. “Serendipity.” He thought as he approached a policeman on duty at the Ghat and asked him the direction to the ASPs residence.

Vikram was very happy to see an ex classmate from Medical College turned up unannounced at his doorstep. But he was perturbed when he heard the extra-ordinary narrative from Rajiv.

“I have heard some tall tales in my tenure in IPS but your story is totally unbelievable. Are you sure you are all right?”

“Well, I am not a basket case. I am not suffering from delusions, hallucinations, Schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder if you are hinting at any of them.”

“But what are you telling me is hardly believable. And this is all conjectures. Do we have a shred of evidence?”

Now it was time to pull out his aces. Rajiv pulled out the envelope with the photographs and the copy of the marriage certificate. The photographs were of Poonam and Rajeev Jain taken in a Hill Station, probably Mussoorie. Some featured Poonam and some were of Rajeev but most were of the couple in lovey dovey pose, probably taken by auto timer.

“Now that is something.” Vikram was enthused. “This establishes their marriage and honeymoon. Enough evidence for me to pick up Mr. Jain and ask him some hard questions. I will assign one of my tougher inspectors to the job and talk to him myself. We’ll do it tonight. You stay in my guest room. We will know by tomorrow morning whether you are a nutcase or Rajeev Jain is a shrewd and heartless criminal.”

Rajiv slept well that night after many days and his sleep was not plagued by nightmares. He woke up next morning to find Vikram gone.

“ASP sir will be back for lunch. He asked you to wait for him.” Informed the cook.

Vikram was back at lunch time. He told the whole story to Rajiv over lunch.

“You were right. Rajeev Jain is the culprit. We picked him up at night and interrogated him. He tried to bluster his way initially but broke down on seeing the photographs and certificate. I lied a bit and said that he and Poonam were seen at the PHC together by witnesses on the day of the incident.  Once he knew he was trapped he started singing and spilled out the whole sordid story.”

“Well, it is good to know that I am not suffering from a psychiatric disorder and there was indeed a paranormal presence at the PHC. But tell me, what the actual truth was.”

“Rajeev Jain and Poonam were having a hot affair. They got married at the Civil Court and went on a honeymoon without telling their families. Poonam conceived as a result. By then Rajeev had realized that both their families would not accept the marriage. He was also tiring of Poonam and her rustic ways. He had applied to HDFC bank and the call had come. Still, Poonam coaxed him to go with him to Jhinjhana. They drove to Jhinjhana on his Mobike and went to the PHC as Poonam knew nobody stayed there in the evening. She did not want to take him directly to her house. She thought that she would convince her parents first and then take Rajeev home. But it did not work that way. Poonam’s parents refused to accept any alliance outside their community. In the end, Poonam rushed out of her home and ran to the PHC. She told Rajeev that it was a mistake coming here and her parents would never accept their marriage. She said that she was willing to leave her family. She wanted to go back to Muzaffarnagar and start living together with Rajeev as they were already married. Rajeev was not so sure about bringing their relationship out in the open. They started arguing and suddenly on impulse Rajeev Jain pushed her into the well. He waited till she drowned, drove back to Muzaffarnagar and told everyone the story of her suicide the next week. He picked up all her stuff from the PG accommodation and destroyed it. Just by chance the photographs below the mattress were saved and eventually fell in your hand. He feigned depression, used it as an excuse to quit his job and promptly joined HDFC. He was under the impression that he had gotten away with his crime. Apparently he has found another girlfriend in HDFC bank. Bastard. I don’t like him but he seems to attract women.”

“So that is about it.”

“He is already under arrest. I have talked to my counterpart in Muzaffarnagar as Jhinjhana falls in their jurisdiction. You rest assured that Rajeev Jain will have to pay for his crime. And thanks to you I have a remarkable success early in my career.”

There was only one thing left to do. Rajiv made his way to Subhash Ghat and hunted up the traditional Panda (Priest) of Chaudhury family of Jhinjhana, Muzaffarnagar. He told him that he wanted to offer the Pind daan (Ritual prayer for the departed) for Poonam.

“Are you a relative?”

“I think you can call me a family friend,”

“Since no one else has come. I guess you can do it.” Decided the Panda.

Rajiv offered the prayers on the banks of Ganges and completed all rituals. He prayed for the salvation of the disturbed soul. After signing the register and making the dakshina (donation) to the Panda, he felt incredibly light.

“I think I have found the answers!” He thought.

Rajiv was back in his PHC the next day.  The first sight that greeted him on entering the premises was a flock of parakeets screeching among the mango trees.

Concluded.

After trying in vain to go back to sleep Rajiv gave up. He got up, lit a cigarette and sat at the study table with a paper and a pen. He decided to put all the information he had gathered on paper and draw some kind of conclusions. His medical training prevented him from believing in ghosts. But he had encountered Poonam twice. Both times he had been in full possession of his senses. He did not know the story of the girl’s body being found floating in the PHC well before so there was no possibility of him imagining what he saw the first time. Poonam’s mother also corroborated the story about Poonam, her boyfriend, refusal of parents to accept the relationship and her body being found in the well. The bank manager further confirmed the fact that Poonam’s boyfriend was called Rajeev (as told to him by Poonam). The only thing which did not tally was that Rajeev Jain was so depressed that he quit his job. Rajeev joined HDFC bank last year so that must be immediately after quitting ICICI. Was there a clue here? And why did he keep getting dreams in which Poonam kept asking him for help and talked about unkept promises and unfulfilled desires? And why no birds ever came to his PHC? The only logical conclusion was that there was some super-natural presence in his PHC. Was Poonam’s ghost or her unfulfilled desires influencing him? Did she want to find some answers through him? He knew that if he told this strange story to any Doctor colleague of his, they would certainly conclude that he was suffering from delusions and take him to Prof. Mitra, the Chief of Psychiatry.

So no help from friends, he concluded. He had three days of leave left. The only thing to do was to visit Muzaffarnagar again and find some clues. He could even visit Haridwar and talk to Rajeev Jain. He had to do it, if not for Poonam, then for his own mental peace.

He took the first bus to Muzaffarnagar and was at ICICI Bank by 9.30 AM. He made his way to the manager’s cabin and re-introduced himself.

“Yes Doctor, I do remember you. What can I do for you?” said the manager.

“I have been following up on the information you had given me. It seems that Rajeev Jain joined HDFC Bank immediately after leaving you guys.”

“Now that is strange! For one he appeared to be too depressed to work when he left. In fact he forfeited a month’s salary as he had not served any notice about quitting. And as far as joining another Bank is concerned, the recruitment process takes at least three months!”

“Even I thought so. Can you do me another favor and give me the address of the place Poonam lived in when she was working here.”

“Well. I have no clue but her local address should be in the records.” He punched a few keys on his computers keyboard. He jotted the address on a paper and handed it over to Rajiv. “I don’t know why I am doing all this but I have this gut feeling that you are a good man and mean well.”

Rajiv thanked him and left the building.

He made his way to the address and found out that it was a paying guest accommodation for working women. He decided to talk to the manager, who was a double sized matriarchal woman with a kindly smile.

“I am Dr. Rajiv Singh. I want to talk about Poonam, my cousin, who stayed here last year.” He decided to use a little white lie.

“Poonam, she was such a sweet lively girl. Everybody in the hostel loved her. It was sad about her suicide. But I still cannot believe that a girl like her could commit suicide. Why, I remember the last time she left for home with her boyfriend, that Jain boy. She was so happy. We are going to my home to talk to my parents about our marriage. Give me your blessings, auntie, she had said. Little did I know that she will never come back? Some ten days later that Jain boy came and told me that Poonam was no more. She had jumped into a well in her village after her parents refused to get her married to a Jain. He even took all her stuff away. But I still miss her.”

“Why did you give her stuff to a stranger?”

“But he was no stranger. He was her boyfriend. Some girls even said that they had a court marriage a month before this incident. I forgot to tell you that some photographs of Poonam were found below the mattress. Since you are the only kin I have come across you might as well take them.”

An hour later saw Rajiv in Muzaffarnagar civil court. He made his way to the Registrar of marriages and talked to the head clerk. His designation coupled with a 500 rupee bribe was sufficient motivation for the clerk to  stir himself and fifteen minutes later Rajiv left the premises with a photocopy of the marriage certificate in his wallet.

To be concluded……..

Rajiv found himself under the tamarind tree. The wind rustled the leaves and created an eerie sound. Rajiv wondered what he was doing there at this time of the night. He did not remember walking to the tree but there he was. He looked around and saw the full moon shining. The entire PHC glistened silver in the light but the light was not romantic or soothing anymore. He was afraid. His throat was parched. He wanted to rush to the safety of his room but his feet were leaden. He could feel her presence around him. He did not want to meet Poonam again. He tried to run away but realized that he was rooted to the ground.

He heard the familiar laugh ring out. It was coming from towards the well. And suddenly he could see her standing next to the well. Her hair flew wild in the wind and he could hear her voice clearly despite the distance. “You may run but you cannot escape. No body can escape. We all want to be free but are tied to this place. Can you find a way out of this maze, Dr. Rajiv?”

Rajiv wanted to reply but his throat was dry. He looked helplessly while Poonam started to move towards him.

“No, don’t come near me!” He managed to find his voice at last.

But Poonam did not stop. “Don’t be afraid. I mean no harm. I need your help. Can you help me?”

As she came nearer he noticed the despair in her eyes and the pallor on her face. But he was afraid.

“Stop.” He croaked but she did not listen but came nearer and nearer.

Rajiv woke up from his sleep. He was shaken by the dream. It seemed too real to be a dream. He realized that he was in Agra, in his home and on his bed. He went to the fridge, took out a glass of water and gulped it down. His hands were still trembling from the reaction to his nightmare. He felt afraid even in the familiarity of his home.

“Was that just a dream or is Poonam really crying out for help?” He pondered deep into the night as sleep eluded him. In the end, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Next morning saw him packing his belongings.

“I have to go to Meerut on some official work.” He told his mother.

There was a howl of protest, “But you said you will stay for the whole week. What happened? Some girl called you at the night!”

“Ah Ma, don’t be silly.” He said, thinking, “If Ma knew the truth about the girl who is the reason for the trip, she would have a fit.”

He reached Meerut in evening. It was a familiar city from him as he had done his MBBS from Meerut Medical College. He called a friend of his who was doing his PG on his mobile, located him and dumped his bag in his room. He then decided to find Rajeev Jain.

He found the house, rang the bell and waited. A middle aged man opened the door and looked at him questioningly.

“Uncle, I am Dr. Rajiv Singh from Medical College. I was looking for Rajeev Jain who is an old friend of mine from School.”

“Well, he is not at home. In fact he is not in town. Last year he joined HDFC bank and has been posted in Haridwar. But I can give you his mobile number.”

Rajiv thanked him and made his way back to the hostel.

“I am on night duty. So you can sleep in my bed. There is no need to go to the guest room.” Said his friend and went off. Rajiv hit the bed early as he was tired after the long journey.

He had the nightmare again. This time he dreamt that he was sitting in his OPD in the PHC seeing patients. He called in the patient and it was Poonam. She was in the familiar dress but looked very distraught and unkempt.

“Can you cure me, Dr.Rajiv? I am suffering from the consequences of unfulfilled desires and unkept promises. No answers, no answers…….!” And her voice echoed around becoming louder and louder till it reached the crescendo.

Rajiv woke up with a start and realized that his nightmares were becoming increasingly lucid.

“I’ll have to get to the bottom of this otherwise she will not give me any peace.” He muttered as he tried to go back to sleep again.

To be concluded………

To be concluded…...

    Rajiv was stunned when he heard the story. He had not come across such an extra-ordinary tale all his life. He did not believe in the existence of ghosts. It is a bit difficult to believe in them when you have spent the better part of your life among the dead and the dying. The first part of medical training is spent in the dissection hall where the students dissect dead bodies to learn about anatomy. The middle half is spent in pathology where one encounters all kind of diseased parts and portions of human remains preserved in formaldehyde. The last part is spent in hospital wards where death is a frequent visitor and by the time one becomes a Doctor, he or she loses all fear of encountering death and disease. “Now if humans become ghosts after dying, I would have encountered many of them in and around my Medical College”, he reasoned. “There has to be a rational explanation for yesterday’s events. Either I went to sleep in the lawn and had a vivid dream or I must have imagined the entire episode. The environment and the solitude got to me. There are no ghosts.” The PHC appeared to be perfectly normal in broad daylight and yesterday’s events appeared to be far away.

    “I am not going to listen to any bullshit.” Rajiv announced to his staff. “I am going to stay here and work. I will talk to the CMO and get the quarters repaired. From today we start regular OPD and from next month I’ll start the indoor. Now I want all staff members to work diligently. No excuses will be entertained.”

    Rajiv immersed himself in work and the day flew away. The PHC became deserted as night descended. Rajiv felt a bit uneasy but admonished himself on his weakness. He again pulled out his chair and placed it in the lawn after dinner. He put on some ghazals and waited for something to happen. The CD ran out but nothing happened. No one came. He looked around but saw no one. He even walked to the well a few times and shone his torch inside. At last he got tired of his vigil and went to the duty room to sleep.

    A week passed and after waiting fruitlessly for Poonam to appear, Rajiv convinced himself that he had imagined the entire episode. He stopped waiting in the lawn. He got the quarter repaired and settled down. The attendance of patients in the PHC increased as word got around about the new doctor. The staff grudgingly accepted his authority and their performance improved. But they refused to stay in the PHC at night. Rajiv was not entirely happy but thought that he would be able to bring them around eventually.

    A month passed and by then Rajiv had pushed the Poonam episode to the back of his mind. He had to go to Muzaffarnagar the next day for the monthly meeting with the CMO and was busy collating his data. He was happy to note that the PHC had started achieving the Vaccination and other targets since his joining. He was hoping to convince the CMO to post additional staff in his PHC so that the performance could improve further and also enable him to start indoor admissions. He was so busy working on his report that he did not notice that it was midnight. His concentration was broken when the lights went out suddenly. He sighed in resignation and looked out of the window. The full moon shone brightly and lit up his lawn. The lawn was now trimmed neatly and very different from how it looked a month back. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. There was someone standing in the shadows below the tamarind tree. It was a woman. He remembered Poonam. Could it be her? He rushed out of the room and looked around. There she was. She was dressed in the same clothes as last time. Her face was shrouded in the shadow of the tree.

“Poonam!” He said, “What is happening?”

“I told you everything last time.” She replied.

“I have been looking for you. But you were nowhere to be found.”

“Don’t you know that I am Poonam? And full moon comes only once a month.”

“This is not possible. I am dreaming.”

“There are many things your science cannot explain, Dr. Rajiv.  Things beyond human understanding!”

“But why, how? “

“Unfulfilled  desires! Unkept promises! You know something. My father even refused to perform my last rites.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“There are no answers. Only questions!” And in a blink of an eye she was gone.

    The wind whistled in the trees and the moon was hidden by a stray cloud. There was an unexplained chill in the air. Rajiv shivered and went inside the quarter. He pinched himself and realized that he was wide awake. He tried to sleep but sleep eluded him as his thoughts kept going to her parting words.

“There are no answers. Only questions!”

To Be Continued…….