“I am planning on taking a vacation,” Siddhartha informed her, “Next week.”

“For how long?”

“Not for long. For three to four days. At most a week.”

“Hmm… If you… Basically for one week I am not going to see anyone else. You don’t need to pay.” She now had enough buffer cash to allow her a week’s break. She would have taken it voluntarily, if it weren’t him that she was to see every time. Bittu was already worried about them. “These love-stories never end well. Are you sure you want to continue seeing him?” he would ask. And she would reply with a definite ‘yes’. Their meetings were always arranged through Bittu. They hadn’t exchanged contact details.

He laughed slightly. “Yeah. We could do that. But I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Would you come with me?”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked if you would come with me.”

“Wh… Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, yet. But somewhere in Himalayas, probably. Himachal? Or Darjeeling?”

She smiled nervously. “I don’t know… if that is a great idea.”

“Take your time and let me know. No obligations or compulsions. Only if you feel like.”

“Yeah.”

—

Dear Karishma,

Why should stories being optimistic be a flaw? There are enough disappointments in real life. Who can be faulted for trying to find some hope in fiction?

My publisher had coaxed me for a while to write. I had tried to humour him. Full-length novel was just not happening. So, I had started writing a short-story. But I could not finish even that. I am now humouring another person with this story; a person who I imagine to be wide-eyed, curious, optimistic, young girl. It is attached. It is the original and only copy. I don’t care for it any longer. You can keep it if you want to. Or throw it away after reading.

I am curious about your handwritten stories. Don’t people usually type them these days?

Best Wishes
Manthan

—

“Mummy. I have to go out for a week.”

“Go out?”

“Out of town?”

“What? What for?”

“It’s a study trip for students. I have to accompany them.”

“But why you? Can’t they send a male teacher?”

“There are girls too, Mummy, in the group. They need a female teacher.”

“But… Can’t you switch it with someone else?”

“Mummy. They pay extra allowance for it. We can use it.”

“As you think fit.”

—

“Sir!” Karishma went to principal’s office.

“Yes. Ms. Gupta. What’s up?”

“I need leave, Sir. For a week.”

“A week?”

“There is a family wedding, Sir, which I must not miss. Tuesday and Thursday are holidays anyway. So, it’s just three days really…”

“But so close to exams…”

“I have finished the syllabus. Someone just needs to take revision classes in my absence.”

“Fine. But you must be back before exams.”

“Yes Sir.”

—

“You do know that outside the city, I cannot assure you of anything. You safety is your responsibility,” Bittu told her.

“I know.”

“Do you want me to negotiate the money…”

“Let him pay whatever he wants. You will get your commission.”

“Keep your phone on, still. If something does happen…”

“Don’t worry.”

—

“How does Dalhousie sound?”

“Sounds very good.” Probably this is when he would finally take her to the bed. She no longer thought of it as a job she would have to do sooner or later.  She wanted it. She hadn’t known any man better than him in her life. He had been kind, caring and generous. What else does it take to win a young woman’s heart?

“Here. Call this number. It’s a hotel. Book a room for yourself. Ask for an executive suit. Book in your real name. They ask for id proofs these days.”

He was getting her a separate room?

“I will pay, of course,” he misread her frown. She just gave a small smile. Expense was not what was on her mind.

—

Dear Mr. Manthan,

I would prefer to type, but the computers are fraught with distractions. E-books, e-mail, facebook, twitter and what not. It becomes difficult to concentrate. That’s why I use good old pen and paper. I type them out later. Everything I had sent you was already typed. I had sent you the originals.

I am sending you the manuscript of my novel. I may take some time in replying, but would eagerly await your letter.

Sincerely
Karishma

—

Siddhartha sent her to the hotel’s reception desk to complete the check-in formalities for both of them. “Act like you are my assistant. If something needs my signature, bring it here.” He still didn’t know her real name, and he was keeping it that way. They had reached in the evening. They had their dinner together in his room, but later he sent her to her room. She tossed and turned in her bed for a long time. Her life needed a direction. For how long could she continue playing this cat and mouse game between her two personas? Karishma and Krystal. She had some money now. Could she not do something honest with it, which will earn her enough to take care of her family? She didn’t exactly need luxuries in life, did she?

She took out a book from her suitcase and started reading it until she drifted off to sleep.

She had just freshened up when there was a knock at her door next morning.

“Come in.”

“Good morning,” Siddhartha came in.

“Good morning, Mr. Sen.”

“Slept well?”

“Yeah. Please sit down. Shall we order breakfast?”

“You want to order here?”

“If that’s fine by you.”

“Fine,” he said and sat down sprawling on her bed. He noticed the book lying there and was startled. He waited while she ordered breakfast on phone and then asked, “You were reading this one?”

“Yeah. Re-reading actually. My favourite writer,” she also sprawled beside him.

“Manthan?”

“Yes. Why are you surprised?”

“You never mentioned that.”

“You never asked about my favourite writer.”

“Strange coincidence…” he murmured.

“Coincidence? Why? Is he your favourite too?”

“Umm… I can’t say that he is my favourite. But… let’s just say I feel a connection.”

“Feel a connection…” Karishma repeated thoughtfully.

“What?”

“I wonder what that is like. Feeling a connection. Do you feel something like that between us too?”

“Why do you ask?” he asked sincerely.

“Why do you treat me the way you do? Why do you treat me so well? As if you owe me something and are paying back for it? I am just an escort. And you haven’t…”

“I understand your curiosity and questions. But I don’t have a good answer for it. I don’t know what made me want to see you again initially. All I know today is that I care for you. May be, yes. I feel a connection.”

She silently twiddled with her fingers for a while and did not meet his eyes. Then she looked up suddenly and spoke, “My real name is Karishma. Karishma Gupta.”

—

To be continued