She hadn’t opened her mouth. But could he trust her? Things had changed since that day. After sharing the most personal parts of his life with her, it was not possible for him to stay aloof from her. And she had started paying more attention to him. Or at least he had started noticing her attentions.

“Do you eat fish?” she had bursted in to his office one day.

“Why?”

“Because I have some for you.”

“And where did you get it from?”

“Now that’s not fair. I asked a question first. And you have already asked me two in return without replying to mine.”

He had laughed at that and had realized immediately how rare that was. He didn’t laugh very often. “Sorry! So what was your question?” A smile still played on his lips.

“Do you eat fish?”

“Yes. I do. And to compensate for not answering earlier, let me answer any related questions to be asked in future as well. I am omnivorous. I eat almost everything.”

“Good then. Try this,” she opened a tiffin box and offered it to him. The box had some fried pieces of fish.

“Where did you get these from?”

“One of my neighbours was in town. Ma sent some through him.”

“They are delicious.”

“She is a good cook. But then all kids feel that way about their mothers, I believe.”

He had laughed again and replied, “But your mother really is. It is delicious.”

“Then have some more.”

“They are for you.”

“Far too many. And I can’t keep them for long. There are no refrigerators in the hostel. Have them please.”

Yet another day she came with some sweets.

“What’s the occasion?”

“A very auspicious one. It’s my birthday,” she had replied with a grin.

“Oh! Wow. I had no idea. Happy Birthday, Rupali. I am sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t even have a gift.”

“That’s easy. You can compensate by giving me an ‘A’ in the project.”

He had mocked a frown, “You are bribing me?”

And both of them had broken into laughter. He had started laughing quite often in her presence.

“Wait Rupali,” he had stopped her when she had made to leave, “I know nobody writes these days, except to put signatures on forms once in a while. But still…” He had taken out a pen from his drawer and had offered it to her. “My advisor had given it to me when I had completed my Ph. D. I kept it with me for all these years. Time to pass it on. Happy birthday.”

Rupali had been surprised beyond belief. It was obvious that it meant a lot to him. For him to have kept it in his drawers all the time. When she took the pen from him, there was a moment when they had held it at the same time. Their fingers hadn’t touched, but it had still sent shivers down her spine.

“Thank you,” she had mumbled, “I couldn’t have gotten a better birthday gift.” She did not dare meet his eyes. She was afraid they would give away more than either of them was prepared for.

—

Rupali stared miserably after Paritosh. She closed the door after he was out of her sight. She was crying. It won’t do to leave the door open. She went back to her chair and sat on it with her head buried in her hands. She remembered the fateful day. It was sometime in the beginning of the last semester at the institute. She was having an enthusiastic discussion with a group of her friends, which sounded so silly to her now.

“Most of us are very easy to manipulate,” she was arguing, “You just need good enough actors.”

“I think most of us can see through what is fake. Only if we have decided to look the other way do we get manipulated. Especially in the matters of heart,” Padma had objected.

“What is a matter of heart?”

“What could be a matter for heart? Relationships, romance…”

“Oh! Those are some of the most manipulated things in the world.”

“You sound very confident?”

“I’m very confident.”

“You can manipulate people into loving you.”

“You didn’t talk about love. You talked about relationships, romance, dates…”

“I didn’t talk about dates. But let’s say date. You think you can get anyone to agree to a date.”

“Define a date.”

“Umm… A coffee invitation from somebody who is not a buddy, let’s say.”

“Coffee?”

“No. That is easy to manipulate. A meal.”

“Outside the campus,” someone else had decided to add an extra condition.

“Dinner, not lunch,” came another addition.

“In a five-star hotel,” chimed in someone else.

“Come on,” Rupali had objected to this one, “Not a lot of people can afford that one. Manipulation has to be within reason.”

“All right. At least to a nice, fancy restaurant.”

“Assuming we are talking about people in the campus, and not rickshaw wallah, or daily-wage workers or grade four staff, that is reasonable,” Rupali had agreed.

“Okay then. Shall we bet?”

“Who do I have to get a date with?”

The names of some of the boys in the institute had popped up at first. From complete dudes to complete nerds. Detailed discussion had followed on what kind would be more difficult to manipulate. And then Padma had come up with the golden answer. By then Rupali was already regretting her bravado. She could have backed out. But when we are young, we tend to see an issue of prestige in trivial things.

“Not a student. A professor.”

“What? No!” Rupali had tried to protest.

“Why not? We are not talking about a rickshaw wallah, or daily-wage workers or grade four staff.”

“Some of them might even be able to afford a five-star hotel.”

Rupali had decided that she’d put up the facade of confidence for the time being and hoped that people would forget about it later on.

“Okay. Who?”

“Dr. Khanna. Paritosh Khanna,” Padma had suggested. The reason was not difficult to guess. If trying to get a date with a professor wouldn’t already be awkward enough, Dr. Khanna was known to be one of the most aloof professors. Not many people had seen him smile. He had never been seen scolding anybody, and doing anything frustrated professors usually did, but everyone was still scared of him.

What they didn’t know, however, that he was relatively relaxed with Rupali. She had smiled inwardly on hearing the name. He was writing recommendations for her Ph. D. application. If she got an admit, she could definitely demand a treat from him for ‘doing well’. If nothing else, after she made the final presentation for her project, she could declare it as an occasion for celebration. A dinner outside the campus in a nice restaurant; that was all their definition of date was, right?

Little did she know that she’d forget all about the bet, she’d have a dinner four months down the line that would become a real date, and then this bet would come back to destroy her, turning it into a lifetime of misery.

She opened her drawer to take out the pen and clutched it close to her heart. Just then her mobile rang.

—

Paritosh was annoyed with the banging on the door. What could be so urgent that someone wouldn’t respect a closed office door, which was a rarity in the institute? And even if something was that urgent, couldn’t one try knocking before banging like that. He was frozen to his spot when on opening the door he found Rupali there. In a completely dishevelled state.

“I need a leave. For at least a week.” She was practically begging.

“What is wrong?” He asked, partly concerned about her state, and partly distracted from noticing the familiar pen in her clutches. She still had the pen? And why was she running around carrying it with her? In such disturbed state?

“My mother. She has grown unwell suddenly. I need to go home and get her to the hospital here. My Kaku, I mean my uncle, is not in town to help her. I must leave right away.” Given her state, he was surprised that she was so intelligible.

“Okay. Go then. I will take care of the formalities.”

She nodded and almost ran away. It was after she was out of sight that he wondered how she would go. He knew that her hometown was at two-hour’s drive from the institute. But she didn’t have a car yet. It was too late to take a bus. He ran after her and managed to catch her right outside the department’s building.

“How will you go?”

“I… Bus… No. I will call a taxi.” The pen was still clutched in one of her hands. With the other hand she fished out her phone from her jeans pocket and tried to make a call. But her hands were shaking badly. His heart sank on seeing her in that condition. He pressed her shaking hand stopping her from further futile attempts at using the phone. “Let me take you,” he said.

“But…”

“Just listen to me, okay? You are in no position to go by yourself. Taxi or otherwise. Wait for a minute. My car is in the parking lot.”

—

To be continued