Category: Karishma-Siddharth

Being Anna (Part 5)

Posted Mish7 CommentsPosted in English, Karishma-Siddharth, Original

“Karishma…” It was almost nightfall. The word was unfamiliar in that voice, because he always called her Ms. Gupta otherwise. But she could have recognized that voice from amongst thousands.

“Prof. Sen,” she shouted back, but heard him calling her again. From behind the rocks, her voice was not reaching him. She dragged herself out in the open braving the rain and shouted again. “Sir, I am here.” He heard her this time and ran towards the voice. “Call again, Karishma,” he shouted after a while. She shouted back. In two or three such attempts he had reached her.

“Thank God. You are safe,” he hugged her to her surprise. “How could you wander away so far? Leaving your phone behind? Without informing everyone? Do you know how worried I was? All of us? Come inside. It’s raining crazy.” He tried to drag her back, but she cried out loud.

“What happened?” he was alarmed.

“I have sprained my ankle.”

“Oh God!” Without showing the least bit of embarrassment, he picked her up in his arms and took her inside. She wasn’t thin. He was strong! The rocks were now shielding them from rain. He settled her on a flat stone, took out a cigarette lighter, and kneeled to examine her ankles.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “It can be fixed. But it will hurt for a moment? Can you bear that?”

She nodded, but howled worse than a woman in labor, when he did jerk her ankle. It was fine after that though, as he had promised.

Temperature had dropped considerably because of rain and she was shivering. He had only a thin cotton jacket over his shirt and that too partially wet. But he took it off and offered it to her.

“It’s okay,” she hesitated, “You’d be cold too.”

“I’m the chaperon here,” he said and forced her to accept the jacket.

“Can we go back?” she asked.

“It’s dark already. Even I would not be able to find our way back. The police would have been informed. It is better if we wait for someone to find us”

She nodded.

“Would you be fine?” he asked looking concerned.

She nodded and spoke after a pause. “Sorry. For all the trouble. And thanks for finding me. As if getting lost was not bad enough, I also sprained my ankle.”

“I suppose I would want my children to be chaperoned, if they are accident-prone as you are.”

“I’m not accident-prone. It can happen to anyone on hills.”

“No? And what is that?” he pointed to a scar on her forehead, “You got that last Sunday in the football ground, didn’t you?”

“How do you know?” she was surprised.

“I was there.”

She knew he was there. He played tennis on Sunday mornings. The court was adjacent to football ground. And it was to watch him that she went there every Sunday. What she was surprised about was that he had noticed.

“Well. Not my fault really. The ball came my way. They should have been careful while playing.”

He laughed pleasantly, “Indeed. They should have been careful? And not you? Karishma! People come to the grounds to play. Not to watch opera. What were you thinking, sitting there, lost in some other world?”

She pouted outwardly, while dying with embarrassment on the inside. Did he know why she was there?

“You like children excessively, don’t you?” she said to change the topic, although regretted even that. Why couldn’t she hold her tongue before him? It would again go back to marriage and what not.

He stared at her for a long moment before answering, “Yes. I like them very much.” He knew what had prompted the question. She had seen him with the school-children. He did not ask the reason even for pretension.

“Then you should have your own?” she was uncomfortable with the silence and was unable to think of anything else to talk about. Jane Eyre. May be she should discuss Jane Eyre with him. But heck! She couldn’t remember even the opening line of that novel.

He took a long pause again before speaking making her restless, “I can’t have them.”

“If you won’t marry, you can, of course, not have them.”

“No. I can’t have them even if I marry ten times, Karishma. It’s me. I have a problem.”

She was tongue-tied for a while. “I… I am sorry… I… Obviously I didn’t know… I should… Is it… just…” She stopped. She couldn’t give words to the question that came to her mind. Was it impotence? Or just the infertility? But he understood it. Since he had already spoken so much, he went ahead and clarified that too. “It’s not impotence. But quality of semen…”

She let out her breath that she had been holding for a while.

He was facing away from her. She walked to him after a while. “That is hardly the end of life, Prof. Sen. There are so many options in today’s world. You can adopt. There is IVF. There could be other treatments.”

“Thanks to your feminism, Karishma, men don’t have to fight duels in defense of their manliness. But there are certain manly things whose absence even the modern society does not accept.”

“And it is one of those things, about which the society is more cruel to men than to women,” she added thoughtfully. A woman unable to conceive would be an object of pity. But not in the same way as a man not being considered man enough.

A silence prevailed, which she broke enthusiastically. “I agree that a large part of society can be quite stupid. But that doesn’t mean everyone is. I’m sure there are women who know better.”

He turned to her with a sad smile. “Give up, Karishma. The woman I loved didn’t know better. I don’t want to dream any longer. Looks like nobody is going to find us now. We’ll have to spend the night here. Sorry.”

“At least, I am not alone,” she assured him with a smile and went back to her seat. He also found a corner for himself and sat down.

She started discussing Jane Eyre with him now and after a while they both felt sleepy.

“Try to get some sleep,” he said.

“Yeah,” she acceded.

But once she laid herself down on the rocks, despite the exhaustion, she could not sleep. She kept her eyes closed for a while. But deliberately keeping them closed was irritating. She opened them after a while. The lighter was still on. She looked at him in its dim light. Then she could not stop herself. She got up, went to him, bent down and planted a quick kiss on his forehead. She stayed still for a moment to ensure that he had not woken up. They came back to her place and lied down. After a while, she drifted off to sleep, despite the dampness and cold. She didn’t see him opening his eyes after she had lied down, and looking at her tearfully.

—

To be continued

Being Anna (Part 4)

Posted Mish2 CommentsPosted in English, Karishma-Siddharth, Original

They climbed up the hill and found a shade to rest under. The lunch could wait. People formed different groups, some gossiping, some playing games. One large group was formed immediately for playing cricket. They found an area that was flat and large enough. Mou sat down with a group for playing cards. Cards didn’t interest Karishma. She picked up a book and wandered off.

“Still working on the project?” her secluded spot was discovered by him.

“Prof. Sen,” she smiled at him and got up. “Not working. It is fun to read in the natural surroundings. But yes – since I am reading the book, I’d as well use it in the project.”

“I won’t disturb you, then,” he said and made to go away.

“No. Please. Stay,” she said and felt awkward at her eagerness.

He pretended not to notice any awkwardness and sat down. She did likewise.

“So, where are you from?” he started the conversation, “You stay in the hostel, right?”

“Yeah. My family is in Kolkata.”

“Who all?”

“Oh. Lots of people,” she chuckled, “My parents. My younger brother and sister. I have one each. My grandparents, two of my uncles and their families.”

“That’s grand. Must be fun.”

“It’s a zoo, jungle, I don’t know what! But yes – it’s fun. How about you?”

“I have no family left. I had lost my family to an accident in childhood. I was saved somehow and was brought up by an elderly maternal uncle. He was quit old and died soon after I started working.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It has always been like that for me. I don’t remember life being any other way.”

“But that solves the mystery,” she said playfully.

“What mystery?”

“Why you are not married. There is no one to coax you.”

He laughed at that, but Karishma was able to discern a pain in it. His laughter was not of amusement, but an attempt at hiding something. The mystery was not solved, then.

“I like that explanation,” he said.

“You should get married though,” she persisted despite being unsure about the appropriateness of the topic.

“Why?”

“For one, you’d make a cool Dad. Not wanting chaperoning for your kids.”

“I hope you are not planning on opening a marriage bureau. You’d do a very bad job of convincing people to get married.”

She grinned. But before she could reply, she heard Mou calling her name.

“Karishma. Lunch time. Where are you?”

“Here. Coming.”

Mou followed the voice and came there. She looked embarrassed to find Siddhartha there. “Sir! Good morning, Sir,” she greeted him awkwardly. He nodded in acknowledgement and got up.

“Shall we go for lunch?” he looked at Karishma. She nodded and they walked off.

—

Mou accosted her after lunch.

“What was going on?”

“What?”

“Hum-tum ek kamre mein band ho…” Mou sang meaningfully and whistled.

“Mou!”

“Fine. At least tell me what you talked about.”

“It’s sad, Mou. He is all alone in the world. No family.”

“Hmm… The way you are going, it won’t be the case for long.”

“Excuse me?”

“You seem all set to make him a family.”

“Mou!”

“No. I am not shutting up this time. What are you doing? A fool can see that you are falling in love.”

“Mou. That’s a forbidden territory for me. My family would be… you know very well.”

“I know very well. It is you who seems to have forgotten.”

“I’m in no danger, Mou. Even if I fall for him, I am sure he would not think of it as any more than a school-girlish crush for a teacher. Besides, it isn’t happening. I am not going to let it happened.”

As she wandered around again, she noticed that a group of school children had also come up the hill. Probably it was a picnic day for them too. Their carefree manners and games brought a smile to her face. And then she noticed the one whose company she was trying to avoid after lunch. Siddhartha Sen had joined the group of children and was playing with them. He was laughing and enjoying their tiresome games. She gazed for a minute; then deliberately turned away. She started walking around the hills alone.

—

“This is going to be a storm. Pack up everyone. Quick. Come on. Get in the buses,” Mrs. D’Souza and student volunteers got busy is trying to get everyone in the buses.

“We have to make sure nobody is left behind. Let’s do a count in every bus before leaving,” Siddhartha suggested and everyone agreed. He was unable to locate Karishma anywhere. Where was she? And of course, there could be others missing.

“Four people are missing.”

“Who all?”

“George is not there.”

“Sahil.”

“Karishma is not there, Ma’am,” Siddhartha heard Mou’s voice, “And her cellphone is left behind in her bag.”

“Vikrant is also not there.”

“Can’t reach any of their phones.”

“George, Sahil and Vikrant had gone to fetch the cricket stuff,” someone recalled.

“I will go and check for them,” a student volunteered, “Give me extra umbrellas.”

“Who has last seen Karishma?”

Nobody could recall seeing her after lunch. Siddhartha hoped that someone else would volunteer the information. But when nobody did, he had to speak. “I had seen someone walk northwards. It must have been her.”

The other three students and the one who had gone to look for them were back by then. Some other students volunteered to look for Karishma accompanied by Siddhartha. They looked around quite far and shouted her name. But had no success.

“I think she has wandered too far, Mrs. D’Sourza,” Siddhartha consulted the other faculty guide, a young lecturer in Philosophy department “There is no point keeping all of them here and making them anxious. I will look for her. You take them back on the buses. Send a car form the hotel and…”

“But how can you do it alone, Prof. Sen?”

“Don’t worry. I am trekker. But if we aren’t back by midnight, inform the police.”

“She is trekker too,” Mou said, her teeth chattering, from cold as well as anxiety for her friend.

“Then she would be all right,” he assured Mou in a gentle voice, “Just stuck somewhere because of the storm.”

“Can I stay with you?”

“No. That won’t help. By myself, I can search a much wider area. You go back to the hotel and don’t worry. I will find her.”

The confidence in his voice assured Mou, though he himself was sick with worry. What had possessed her to wander away like that?

—

To be continued

Being Anna (Part 3)

Posted Mish15 CommentsPosted in English, Karishma-Siddharth, Original

“I am glad that you are using this opportunity, Ms. Gupta” Mou giggled, “Let me try to mimic how he does it.” She tried, but Karishma was not impressed.

“No. No. You don’t say it like him.”

“Aww… How can I? I don’t get to see or hear him up close, do I? Why don’t you try it.”

“Okay here,” she bowed her head a little and then looked up, “I am glad that…” Suddenly she stopped and blushed furiously.

Mou raised her eyebrows.

“Forget it,” Karishma said, “I am no good at mimicking.”

—

They hadn’t begun their weekly project discussion yet, when someone came to see Siddhartha.

“Yes?”

“There is a note from director’s office, Sir.”

“Thanks you.”

Siddhartha opened the envelope. “Our director sometimes refuses to recognize that there are things like e-mails available now,” he sounded amused, not irritated. “Ah! Good job, Ms. Gupta.”

“Sir?”

“Director is happy with the results of projects as an alternative to continuous evaluation. Very few people have opted for it. But they are all doing good work. So, he has appreciated me for the idea. And your project has been mentioned specifically.”

“It was your idea?”

“So was continuous evaluation. So all bouquets and brickbats can be thrown my way.”

She smiled. He wasn’t bad-tempered at all. In fact, he was great at conversations. She wondered about his general moroseness. Why?

“So, what were we to discuss?”

“The novel doesn’t explain the source of Heathcliff’s wealth at all,” she complained. She was going to present Wuthering Heights that week.

“So, your job is to think of the possibilities.”

“Like?”

“The economic structure of the England at that time had started being fluid due to flourishing trade. Mrs. Dean mentions that he looked like he had served as a soldier. He might have joined something like East India Company. That could be one source. Besides given how devoid of any scruples he was, he might even have cheated someone out of money. Probably a woman of some small fortune whom he would have seduced.”

“Hmm… I’d put that in my presentation. By the way, I understand that the characters here are narcissists, selfish… and the entire tone of the novel in dark. It’s about ruthless vengeance. But still, there is one thing I find difficult to digest.”

“What?”

“That Heathcliff should like to torture Catherine’s daughter as a part of his revenge. I can’t imagine a man doing that to the daughter of a woman he loved. ”

Siddhartha looked amused. “Even at its darkest, you do see some romance in love.”

“Don’t you? I mean… if I were to write a novel like that I’d make him a really ruthless man to the rest of the world. But he would kill everyone else, and probably even get her married to his son, only to have her – his lover’s daughter – close to him so that he can give her the fatherly love. And that would redeem him.”

“That would be a fantastic read, I am sure. And more palatable. I agree with your sentiments. I can’t imagine anyone I know who would have tortured the daughter for revenge.”

She grinned as he finally accepted her idea.

“I hope you are getting time to study for your other subjects with this project. There are no weekly tests, but you will have to take exams.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she replied. The new semester was in its fifth week, and with five meetings and other occasional interactions, they had become quite casual with each other. But what vexed her was that he still continued to call her Ms. Gupta.

“Are you coming for the picnic? It’d be fun,” she asked as she gathered her notes to leave.

“I have to. I have the shepherding duty,” he smiled.

She had seen him smile many times now. But it still made her heart skip a beat.

“Shepherding? What on earth does that mean?” she asked ill-concealing her blush.

“Ah! Well. I am the faculty guide ala your jailer ala your shepherd along with Mrs. D’Souza. It is only in India that we would consider it necessary for post-graduate students to be in need of chaperons. You are old enough to choose our government, some of you old enough to govern.”

She laughed, “What can be done? Parents want it.”

“Parents have to be the most senseless creatures in the world.”

“So, you wouldn’t want your kids to be chaperoned?”

His good humor disappeared and his face hardened all of a sudden. Karishma looked at him anxiously. Had she said something inappropriate?

To her relief he smiled. It was evident that it was a forced smile. But it meant that whatever offended him, he wasn’t going to take it out on her. “I suppose not. That would be hypocritical, won’t it? When as a teacher I don’t want the chaperoning duty?”

She smiled as sweetly as she could manage, hoping to placate him with that and came away.

—

“What is his story, Mou?”

“Whose?”

“Professor Sen’s. Why is he not married?”

“Professor Sen. Aha! No more Mr. Perfectionist, eh?” That as a nickname Karishma had given him when on the first day of the class, he had stopped her form attending it, because she was late by few minutes. Her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. She didn’t like missing classes. She had stubbornly sat outside and taken notes. “Mr. Perfectionist cannot stop me from being anywhere else in the world, can he? The classroom might be his fort for that one hour,” she had grumbled.

“Shut up, Mou. He isn’t as bad as he looks from afar. He can actually crack jokes.”

“All right. And that makes you interested in his single status. What’s going on Ms. Gupta?”

“If you don’t want to talk, don’t. Stop teasing me pointlessly.”

“Arr… Okay, okay. Don’t be mad. Thing is, nobody really knows his story. Some people think that because of his bad temper, no girl can withstand him.”

“But his temper is not bad at all.”

“Some even think that he is gay.”

“He is not gay.”

“And how can you be so sure about that?”

“I know.”

“You do?” Mou’s eyes twinkled with mischief again and Karishma pretended to hit her.

Mou guffawed and dropped the topic. “Shall we pack for the picnic? There is an overnight stay. So, we need to carry essentials.”

“Let’s use a single suitcase. If we carry jeans, there won’t be much to pack.”

“Okay.”

—

Siddhartha slumped on the bed after packing his overnighter for the picnic. “So, you wouldn’t want your kids to be chaperoned?” her voice rang in his ears. How was he to know whether or not he would like them chaperoned, when he wasn’t going to have them? And he had desired children so much.

“We will have two of our own and we will adopt two,” he had told Sonali once.

She had rolled her eyes at him. “Why not open an orphanage, then?”

“No. Not orphanage. A home with as many children as possible. I don’t think I will be able to provide for more than four though.”

And she had laughed – her loud, merry laughter that used to mesmerize him. It produced those dimples on her cheeks…

He jerked himself out of the memories. They could bring no peace, no happiness.

—

To be continued

Being Anna (Part 2)

Posted Mish4 CommentsPosted in English, Karishma-Siddharth, Original

“Hello Ms. Gupta,” Mou grinned at her when they met next.

Karishma gave an exaggerated sigh and pressed her chest dramatically. Mou broke into a giggle. “What happened in the great Professor Sen’s office?”

“He is drop-dead gorgeous, Mou!”

“Ah! So, it took some personal attention from him for you to admit that?”

“Whatever that means. He said something about my assignment. And I blabbered something stupid about continuous evaluation. I bet he was laughing after I left, if those facial muscles are capable of flexing for a laugh.”

“You want to impress him, eh?”

“That would be fun, won’t it?” Karishma grinned.

“Good luck!”

—

Karishma lingered outside his office. This was the third time in the day she was doing it. The last two times she had lost courage and gone back. The same would have happened this time too, except that the door suddenly opened.  She was standing right in front of it at that moment. She startled and jumped back.

“Yes?” Siddhartha asked briskly.

“Prof. Sen… Sir!! Good morning… I mean good evening, Sir.”

He frowned and looked at her quizzically. “You wanted to meet me?” he asked.

“No… Yes Sir. But you were going somewhere. I can come later.”

“Only to the restroom. Why don’t you wait in the office for five minutes?”

“Yes Sir.”

She took a deep breath once inside the office and tried to collect her thoughts. She had spent so many hours trying to gather the courage to knock that she had forgotten the alibi she had in mind for coming there. What was it? Ah, right! The assignment. Anna Karenina as a feminist character.

“Yes. Tell me, Ms. Gupta. What did you want?” he came and sat on his chair.

She had gathered her wits together and spoke with reasonable calmness. “You had made a remark about my assignment. Anna Karenina one. That there was a lot to debate. I was wondering about that. We could probably have that debate… sometime?”

“Sure. Now?”

“Yeah. Why not?” she would be missing her philosophy class, she realized. But she might not have the courage to come back if she left now.

“What is more interesting than you not considering Anna a feminist character is that you consider Karenin one.”

“Yes. I have given reasons for thinking that way.”

“But if Anna, at best, is an accidental feminist, isn’t Karenin one too? When he doesn’t fight a duel or is permissive towards his wife, he is not thinking about her, but himself.”

“Feminism is not only about women’s welfare. It breaks the patriarchal stereotype not just for women, but men too. A man is allowed to be what would derogatorily be called being sissy or being a cuckold. He doesn’t have to be manly the way patriarchy asks him to be. And it is fine. Doesn’t make him a lesser person. Anna doesn’t assert and claim her feminist rights even when given a chance by her husband. He does. Although he doesn’t have the feminist vocabulary to justify his decisions. So, he uses politics, importance of his work and religion for it.”

Siddhartha found it pleasant to listen to her fervent speech. He was no longer as interested in having a debate as in listening to her talk.

“So, you are unforgiving to Anna,” he said suppressing a smile.

“I pity her. I don’t blame her for being what she was, for wanting to live a life she wasn’t granted. But God forbid if I were as weak as she was, if I caused so many people so much misery by my actions. Whatever be the society’s failings and hypocrisies, if I did something like what she did, I’d die much sooner than her. I’d rather fight the hypocrisies bravely than fall a victim of it weakly.”

“You would,” he could not help smiling now.

His smile mesmerized and unnerved her. “I’m… talking too much…” she averted her eyes.

“No. It’s fine. It’s interesting to see that you get so emotionally involved with characters you read about.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled at that, “Mou says I am an idiot to be doing so.”

“Mou?”

“My friend. She sits next to me in the class.”

“Ah! Anyway. I see that you have already missed a class.” She flushed on hearing that. He had known that she was missing a class! “You should not miss another.”

“Yes Sir,” she got up hurried.

“Just a minute, Ms. Gupta,” he stopped her.

“Yes Sir?”

“You were saying something about continuous evaluation the other day? You don’t like it.”

“Uh… Yeah. I know it is supposed to make us study and all. But preparing for tests all the time is not fun. You need time to read, reflect and discuss.”

“Hmm… Okay. You can leave now.”

“Good night, Sir.”

“Good night.”

—

“Choices, indeed!” Mou made a face.

“What happened?” Karishma asked. Mou had been looking at the noticeboard.

“So, apparently the academic senate has come up with a proposal to give us an alternative to continuous evaluation. Instead of tests every week, we could do semester-long projects with presentations every week, under any professor who agrees. So, which is the greater torture according to you, Karishma?”

But Karishma had gotten busy reading the noticeboard and didn’t reply.

“This is interesting,” she said at last, “I should like to go for it over the tests.”

“I’d never do that. But to each his own. Come. We are getting late.”

“Do you remember by when do we have to register if we want to take it up the next semester?” Karishma asked Mou as they walked to the class.

“I think till the end of next month. So, who are you doing it with, Ms. Gupta? With SS?” Mou winked at her. She’d call her ‘Ms. Gupta’ whenever she wanted to tease her about Siddhartha.

Karishma just grinned in reply.

—

“So, what project would you want to do?”

“One idea I had was to create a resource for lay people wanting to read classics. There are several historical and sociological reference that keep people from enjoying them even if they can get past the archaic language.”

“Hmm… Like?”

“Can I use your laptop? I will show you a website which does it for Jane Austen’s work… Here. See. For example it explains why those ladies who didn’t need to work for anything else kept sewing and mending all day. Apparently clothes were not as cheap then. This one here explains how costly the transportation was… Things like these.”

“Interesting. I think this can be taken up. But you will have to do at least one book per week for it to qualify as a valid project. Will you be up for it? It will be time-consuming.”

Ah! The demanding teacher was back. But she wasn’t going to back out now.

“Yes, Prof. Sen. I can do that. At least it saves me from weekly tests.”

“All right, then. Next semester. After the class schedule is announced, we should fix up a one-hour slot ever week to catch up on the progress. Ideally one day before the weekly presentation.”

“Yes Sir.”

“I am glad that you are using this opportunity, Ms. Gupta” he said all of sudden.

“Excuse me?”

“The opportunity of doing a project instead of taking the tests. You disliked that, didn’t you?”

“Yes Sir,” a hesitating smile formed on her lips.

—

To be continued

Being Anna (Part 1)

Posted Mish4 CommentsPosted in English, Karishma-Siddharth, Original

Anna Karenina as a Feminist Character

Feminism is a collection of movements and ideologies aimed at defining, establishing, and defending equal political, economic, cultural, and social right for women. After reading this definition on Wikipedia, I couldn’t think of a single reason why Anna Karenina should be considered a feminist character, and why it should be such a popular topic of assignments and tests.  If Anna was a feminist, she was an accidental one. A modern reader will not judge her on moral grounds for destroying her loveless marriage. But her capability for rational and sensible thinking is seriously in doubt.  She was fully aware of how precarious her situation was. How could she ever hope to continue seeing her son in that situation? She rejected a divorce in the hope of not breaking that relationship, which even a modern reader can guess was impossible in her circumstances. In the process she rejected even the little feminist choice the circumstances were providing her with. If she were a feminist and sincerely believed herself to have the right to choose, she wouldn’t have been ashamed of herself. At the very least, she should either have had the strength to stay away from society and still be happy, or to not feel tortured at the jeering.

If there is a feminist character in the novel, I would rather say it is Karenin, Anna’s husband. The novel is not generous to him. His act of not going for a duel is considered unmanly. But what can be a more vulgar display of patriarchy than fighting a duel over a woman’s sexual life.  He gives her the freedom to continue seeing her lover, if only external proprietary were maintained, and he wasn’t forced to own up the situation publicly and give divorce. The novel portrays this too as the sin of non-passion. I am inclined to think that he gave her as much freedom and choice, while still shielding her from the harm and ridicule, as the society and laws allowed him. He is the feminist character in whose portrayal the novel doesn’t do enough justice. After all, wouldn’t the male feminists of today be considered sissy in a publicly-acknowledged patriarchal society?

The assignment was much longer and had gone beyond word-limit, but Professor Siddhartha Sen read on without taking his eyes off the notebook even once. By the time he finished, a smile was playing on his lips. A smile, which if it were seen publicly, would have surprised his colleagues as well as students. He was known as a good, but an extremely demanding teacher.  He wasn’t ill-tempered, but he wasn’t amiable either. In particular, he was a strict disciplinarian. He reached his class five minutes before the scheduled time, started the lecture at exactly the scheduled time, and once the lecture started, he wouldn’t allow anyone to enter the class, even if they were late only by a minute or a half. Deadlines for his assignments were similarly strict to the last minute. He collected them from his mailbox right at the deadline and even if others came in while he was still collecting them, they won’t be graded.  Not even a missing comma escaped his attention while grading the tests and not failing his course was enough of an achievement even for the best of the students. And he didn’t smile.

—

Karishma’s eyes widened when she looked at the notebook returned by the teaching assistant. Mou, her best friend, peeped in almost at the same time and shrieked. “OMFG.  Karishma Gupta. Ten on ten. On an English assignment? From SS of all people?”

“Hush Mou. Until I see this on the final grade-sheet, I do not believe it. I think he had intended a zero. By mistake a line has been drawn before it and it looks like ten. This is not expected of Mr. Perfectionist, is it?”

“Oh shut up, you sly creature. If you don’t want me to read you assignment, just say so.”

“Read it, if you wish. It’s not like he is going to give the same assignment again,” she carelessly flung the notebook at Mou, who caught it with some difficulty. Then she coolly reminded her, “But you would do better to rush to the class. He is giving a quiz today, do you remember?”

“Damn this continuous evaluation. And SS takes it to heart. Other professors are not so keen on giving tests every week.”

Another surprise awaited Karishma, once the test was over.

“I will need help in carrying these papers to my room. The TA is absent,” Siddhartha Sen said to nobody in particular after collecting the test papers from students.Then suddenly he looked at her, “Ms. Gupta. Would you mind carrying them?”

Karishma was too nonplussed with his request to take note of everybody’s eyes on her. The question in her mind, and in those eyes was the same, however. ‘Siddhartha Sen knows her by name?’

She got up looking dazed, picked up one stack of test papers and followed him silently to his office.

—

“There… On the right side on the desk,” he told her where to keep the papers. “You assignment was quite interesting.”

“Huh?” she was startled.

“Are you unwell? You look lost.”

“No. No… Thank you. But I am fine. I was just a little preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied?”

“There are more tests today. This continuous evaluation is getting on our nerves.”

“Well… At least, it keeps you all on your toes.”

“Keeps making us prepare for tests all the time. Leaves little time to study.”

“Ah! Students are dying to study otherwise, you mean?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I cannot speak for everyone, but even those who do want to study, cannot.”

“Hmm… Anyway. I was saying that your assignment was interestingly written. Although there is a lot of scope for debate, the originality was commendable.”

Her face flushed despite herself. It was indeed ten on ten then. She wasn’t being bashful in front of Mou. She indeed hadn’t been sure of that, having done the assignment recklessly.

“Thank you, Sir,” she managed to mumble before leaving.

Siddhartha could not suppress a smile seeing her walking away hurriedly as if bitten by something.

—

To be continued

Unusual Places (Part 13)

Posted Mish9 CommentsPosted in English, Karishma-Siddharth, Original

“Life happens to us in unusual places, Karishma. I failed twice in marriages. I had to call up an escort service to find a woman who helped me understand that I was looking at women the wrong way.” She still didn’t look up. He continued, “And I am not the only one. You have also found your love in the most unusual place. In a middle-aged man, who has failed at least twice.”

When she still didn’t look up, he got worried. He gently lifted her chin up. “What is bothering your so much? There is absolutely no pressure on you; you know that, don’t you?”

“I feel like such a… gold-digger.”

“What?” he was surprised and then laughed softly, “Some people have a huge ego. You, dear girl, have a huge conscience. And troublesome one too, at that. But I think it is unfair if your conscience troubles come in way of my happiness, Karishma. Don’t you think so?”

“Mr. Sen…”

“Siddhartha…”

“Please listen to me,” she sounded miserable.

“Go ahead.”

“You have done a lot for me. A lot. I don’t want any more favours from you.”

“Unusual conditions too,” he sounded amused, “But what option do I have? I accept.”

“I don’t know what I am doing.”

“Me neither. But we will figure out.”

She smiled for the first time during the exchange, albeit weakly, “You have solved all my problems till now. I guess you will continue to have to do that.”

“Trust me that’s a man’s dream,” he chuckled.

“Mr. Sen…”

“Siddhartha.”

“Siddhartha…” she repeated self-consciously.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have some time now?”

“I have all the time today. What do you want?”

“Take me someplace. Someplace away from all the humbug. I am tired of fighting with myself.”

“You don’t have to go back to work?”

“Not today.”

He smiled, “Will you come home?”

“Home?” she looked uncertain.

“Nobody’s there. Don’t worry. No family, I mean.”

She nodded.

“Let’s go.”

—

Siddhartha led her to his bedroom and excused himself to go to the bathroom. Karishma ambled around the room and found a neatly arranged stack of printed sheets. “At the Fringes by Manthan” the first page read. She turned over. “To K. For bringing back perspective and inspiration in my life” went the second one. She smiled and put the pages back.

When Siddhartha came out, he found her standing at the window, looking out. She had taken off her cotton jacket and was wearing a sleeveless top. He realized that it was the first time he had seen her bare arms. He went up to her and held her from behind. He caressed her shoulders and planted a kiss on one. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Karishma. It doesn’t have to be sexual, our relationship,” he said.

“Why not?” she replied.

“Why not, indeed!” he mumbled. He was no longer a client. She was no longer “working”. He bent down and kissed her shoulder again.

She turned around to face him. “But not today.”

“And why not?”

“I am wearing very plain lingerie.”

He was taken aback and then laughed softly on seeing the mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, you will do the lingerie talk and expect me to step back, eh?” He reached over her shoulders and pressed a switch. It drew the blinds on the window and the room grew dark. “The problem is solved now. I can’t see anything.” He slipped his hands inside her top at the back. “But I can feel every bit.”

—

“Why had you stopped writing?” she looked up from the book she was reading and asked suddenly. They were in a bookshop on a book-buying spree.

“My father decided to step away from business. He emotionally and financially blackmailed me into taking up his responsibilities. My first marriage, which was already in shambles, broke down soon afterwards. The peace of mind that it takes to create a fictional world and weave a story in it was lost. And so was the inspiration. I was annoyed with myself, with life.”

“Angst is often a good motivation to write.”

“Didn’t work out for me, I think.”

“Why the pseudonym?”

“When I published the first book, I didn’t want my parents to know. They didn’t approve of such wasteful exercises.”

“Interesting. These days it would almost be impossible to make a name for yourself, if you didn’t always show your face and stay in limelight. Only writing, howsoever well, doesn’t work. Anonymous and pseudonymous writing would be lost, unless you are writing something really scandalous. Like that fake IPL player.”

“Yeah. Our publisher is apprehensive about publishing my new book.”

“Really? They are crazy.”

“They aren’t. Things have changed.”

“It’s getting published, right?” she asked apprehensively.

“They will publish it, yes. They won’t say ‘no’ to me.”

“Thank God!”

“You don’t need it to be published to read it, Karishma,” he smiled at her.

“But I would like to hold a real book in my hands.”

“All right. You shall have it, whether or not they publish it.”

“How?”

“I will have one printed for you.”

She laughed.

“You know it is so good to see you laugh like this. Unburdened.”

“Thank you and thanks to you. I have been meaning to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Had you suspected who I was before I had told you?”

“Karishma and Krystal, you mean? Sometimes I did. When I tried to put a face on Karishma who wrote me those letters, I often ended up thinking about you. The first letter had come soon after our first meeting. So, there were reasons to suspect. But somehow I didn’t take the idea seriously.”

“Hmm…”

“You had mentioned that you liked reading, but had never said anything about writing. What about you? Did you suspect?”

“Not even in my wildest dreams. The ruthless industrialist and the sensitive writer. Never!”

“Ruthless, eh?”

“That’s what I had initially thought of you. Did you fire your assistant?”

He laughed, “No. I have often wanted to. But I didn’t.”

“Thank God. Although now that I think of the envelope with address, it feels stupid that I didn’t suspect.”

“Envelope with address?”

“The first time I had met you, there was an envelope address to Manthan with a postbox address in your room. You had said that it must be that of an earlier guest and they didn’t clean the room well.”

“Ah! I had forgotten about it. So, that’s where you got my address from?”

“Yeah. Postbox address was easy to memorize, thankfully. Otherwise I would have cried out when you asked me to throw it in dustbin,” she grinned.

He smiled.

“You had been really wicked in Dalhousie,” she continued.

“Wicked?”

“Even after I told you who I was and you found me with your book, you didn’t tell me about your real identity. Or rather your pseudo identity of a writer. You had, obviously, made the connection, hadn’t you?”

“I had made the connection. But… I wasn’t sure how you would react. I was afraid of embarrassing you. In your world, your favourite author didn’t know anything about the part of your life you were uncomfortable with. I thought I would let it be that way. That’s why I didn’t even try to meet you later and focused on getting your book published. But I couldn’t stop myself from attending the launch function and got caught.”

“Thank God for that.”

“Yeah. Thank God for that.”

“There was something else about Dalhousie…”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to apologize. I had said something about your writing that was… It was audacious of me…”

“About the female characters?”

She nodded, “I shouldn’t have…”

“But you were right. I have been terrible in understanding or choosing women, Karishma. It reflects not only in my writing, but also on my life. My failed relationships…”

“No. You can’t take something I said about your characters to your heart like this. I am not an expert. Neither in writing, nor in relationships.”

“But I am,” he chuckled, “And trust me that you were more correct in your observation than you would ever realize. Anyway. I don’t think we are talking books any longer. If you are done, let’s pay and go to the café.”

She agreed and followed him to the counter and then to the café.

“Why me, Mr. Sen?” she asked after they had ordered coffee and food.

“Siddhartha.”

“Siddhartha,” she smiled sheepishly. She was still not used to calling him by name.

“I could ask the same thing.”

“No. You couldn’t. It’s a no-brainer. You gave me everything I needed. Money, of course. But even more importantly a dignified treatment.”

“I have told you how I felt when I first met you.”

“And why did you meet me again?”

“I think… I got curious. The curiosity of a writer, in a potential character.”

“Hmm…”

“Yeah. It was rather selfish.”

“Come on…”

“And then, slowly, I discovered something more alluring than just a character whose miseries I could portray in a story. I discovered a woman of substance.”

“Woman of substance?” she looked embarrassed, “You are joking.”

“I am not.” He paused and looked at her. When she continued to look unconvinced, he explained, “When you look at yourself, you probably think of a woman who tried to sell her body for money. But what I find there is a woman who accepted her responsibilities, and did whatever it took to fulfill them. She didn’t just whine and crib about her fate, while doing nothing about it. Try to see yourself with my eyes.”

“A liberal writer’s eyes,” she looked away as she mumbled.

“A liberal writer’s point of view isn’t always ridiculous or unreasonable,” he smiled.

“No,” she looked back at him and smiled herself, “I don’t know what would have happened to me, or my self-esteem, if I hadn’t met you.”

“Sooner or later, somewhere, somehow, someone else would have seen the substance that I did. But I would have been pretty unlucky in that case.”

She blushed and her eyes moistened. Siddhartha looked around and found the café rather empty. He lifted her hands to his lips and planted a soft kiss on each of them.

– The End –

Unusual Places (Part 12)

Posted Mish9 CommentsPosted in English, Karishma-Siddharth, Original

Dear Mr. Sen,

Thanks you for writing. Things are fine with me. The new job comes with a generous health insurance for family apart from a good salary. The publisher has told me that first royalty cheque will also be in soon. It seems that all your expenses on marketing of the book are paying off. I am only fighting an emptiness within myself.

Had you sent Akash to me? It wasn’t a good idea.

Sincerely
Karishma

—

Dear Karishma,

Did something go wrong? What did Akash say? I am worried. Please reply soon.

Siddhartha

—

Dear Mr. Sen,

I am all right. There is nothing to be worried about. It just wasn’t comfortable meeting him. I don’t know what you were trying to do. But certain things aren’t meant to be. And this one has nothing to do with you or with what I did.

The publisher wants me to write another novel. Is this also your doing?

How is your story or novel coming along?

Sincerely
Karishma

—

Dear Karishma,

Would you please call me Siddhartha? I haven’t said anything to the publisher about another novel from you. This is completely your own doing.

In couple of weeks, I should be able to send you a draft for my novel. Yes. I wrote it that quickly.

Love
Siddhartha

—

“Love” – that one word in the letter took her breath away. She clutched the letter to her heart and let a drop of tear fall from her eyes. She spent the entire week almost in a daze. If she did manage to maintain some sanity, it was because of a very important deadline at work, which was straining the resources of the entire company, Karishma’s included. By Wednesday the project had been handed over to the client. On Thursday she received another letter from him before leaving for work. The day was slow and leisurely. She read the two letters repeatedly. The latter one dripping with anxiety.

“Karishma. You are worrying me again. Why haven’t you replied? What is going on in your head?”

She remembered that Thursdays were his no-meetings days. He didn’t accept any appointments on that day. He would not be busy with anyone else.

—

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. But I can’t disturb him today. You must get an appointment,” his secretary was not relenting.

“If you would just ask him once…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Neha. Send these back to legal and ask them to expedite it. We need this closed…” Karishma forgot to breathe as she saw Siddhartha striding towards his secretary, who was also affected similarly. But she had a job to do. “Yes Sir. You could have just called me…”

But Siddhartha was no longer listening to her. Because he had noticed Karishma standing there. It took even him a few moments to find his voice. “Hi,” he greeted uncertainly.

“Hi,” she barely whispered back.

The effect seeing Karishma had on Siddhartha was not lost on his secretary. She had intended to tell Siddhartha that the woman was bothering her. Instead, she just stood there deferentially.

“Neha. Do I have any appointments now?” he asked.

“No Sir. It’s Thursday.”

“Right. Come,” he motioned Karishma to follow him and she did.

“What happened?” he asked as soon as he locked the door of his office behind them.

“N… Nothing. I… just… I just wanted to see you.”

“Karishma…”

“I know. It was a stupid idea. Actually I was going to go back. Unfortunately you came out…” she blabbered.

“Karishma!”

“It’s not good for you, not for me… I will leave…”

He grabbed her hand as she turned, pulled her back and before she knew it his lips were locked to hers. Unprepared, she was out of breath soon and had to step back.

“Give me you bloody number. I was going to call Bittu again tonight. Why the hell were you not writing?” his voice croaked.

She gulped hard and kept her eyes downcast. He softened as he realized that she was really out of her depth. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded, still not looking at him.

“Aren’t you going to talk to me?”

“You shouldn’t have spoken to Akash.”

“What happened?”

She recalled and tried to reproduce the conversation as well as she could.

—

“Karishma. I was really shocked that evening…”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Akash. What can possibly come out of it? I don’t have any explanations and I don’t want to give any.”

“I didn’t know about your problems, Karishma.”

“It doesn’t change anything.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I had done whatever I had to do before you had come back. And then…”

“But you hadn’t done anything. You still haven’t, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I met Siddhartha Sen. And he told me that…”

“That we haven’t slept together.” He had nodded and she had given a sardonic smile. “Even that doesn’t change anything, Akash. It was a coincidence that I went to him and he decided to not take me to bed. I could have gone to someone else. Or he might have decided otherwise. As far as I am concerned, I had made my decision. And I can see how uncomfortable it makes you. That’s fine. That’s not your fault. My mess isn’t worth your time, Akash. Move on.”

“Do you not feel anything, Karishma? About us? That evening in my apartment…”

She had thought about it for a moment – a moment of introspection. And then it had dawned upon her. “I’m sorry that I did it, Akash. I am really sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t aware of what was going in my own head. I had gone to bed with you, because he wouldn’t take me.”

What she didn’t feel for Akash, she felt for Siddhartha. And that conversation had made her realize that.

—

“Why aren’t you looking at me?” Siddhartha asked.

She didn’t reply.

“Karishma. Thanks a lot for coming.”

“You aren’t angry?”

“I just said – thanks. I think that means I am thankful.”

“Why would you be thankful?” She looked up without realizing it.

“I had made a rule that I regretted. But I couldn’t have broken it myself.”

“I should not have broken it either.”

“Why the regret?”

“There was a reason you had made the rule in first place. It isn’t good for either of us.”

“What do you want, Karishma?”

“Excuse me?”

“Forget about all the complications, considerations, people, our history… Forget about all of that and tell me what brought you here today? What is that one thing that will make you happy?”

She looked at him with puzzled expression. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”

“I want to hear what I asked. What will make you happy today? Right now?”

“Spending time with you…” she managed to answer.

“Do you feel the need to get married to do that?”

She shook her head.

“Who we spend our evenings with is nobody’s business. Karishma,” his voice grew thick with emotions, “I have missed you.”

She downcast her eyes as tears filled them up.

—

To be continued

Unusual Places (Part 11)

Posted Mish12 CommentsPosted in English, Karishma-Siddharth, Original

“Really?” her eyes brightened up on hearing that.

“Really!”

“Wow! That’s… that’s so cool.”

“Come. Let me take you out for a dinner. If you have time…”

She smiled and blushed, “I always have much more free time than you do. Please don’t embarrass me.”

“Come then,” he got up and extended a hand to her. She took it. He picked up the two books lying on the table on their way out.

—

“Where do you stay?” he asked after they came out of the restaurant and sat in his car, “I will drop you home.”

She looked at him curiously.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I have wondered… all too often… And felt guilty… About us…”

“Guilty? About what? Nothing happened between us…”

“Yes. Does that make me more honest, or less so?” she smiled sadly, “Why did I take all that money from you? Do you want me? Did you ever want me?”

He turned serious. “Yes,” he said unhesitatingly, “I want you, Karishma. I want you a lot. I have found you lovely and desirable from the first time I had laid my eyes on you.”

“Then? Why not?”

“The first time I… I felt you were inexperienced.”

“I was not inexperienced.”

“You had other… clients?”

“Not clients.”

“With you ex-for-two-years boyfriend, then? In college?”

“Yes.” And after that too, she thought to herself as she recalled that evening in Akash’ apartment, but did not say anything about that.

“That isn’t the same thing. You were into this unwillingly.”

“But I knew what I was doing. I still know what I am doing.”

“You don’t have to do it. Not for money, not for gratitude.”

“What if… I want to do it.”

He fell silent and she looked away. Had she spoiled it all? She turned back, when she felt his hands on her shoulders.

“In that case…” he mumbled as he leaned towards her and met her lips. She responded passionately.

“But you know what,” he said after they broke the kiss, “If I take you to bed with me now, Karishma, I’d officially make you a prostitute. I don’t want to do that. I won’t do that.” She looked at him in astonishment. “Besides,” he continued, “You will meet people of your age. Someone will be the one – suitable to be your life-partner. This must not come in your way then.”

He grabbed his book from the back seat, took out a pen from his pocket, scribbled something on the book before signing it and gave it to her.

“Never look back,” it read. Tears threatened to betray her and she had to blink them back.

“My turn now,” he gave her book and his pen to her.

She looked at the book blankly for a while. What was she to write for him? Finally she did and gave it back.

“To you?” he was puzzled on reading it.

“If I started writing what all you have been to me – an inspiration, a mentor, a protector, a lover, a guardian and what else not – it would become too long and would still be incomplete. And if I started writing what I feel for you – respect, love, gratitude and what else not – that would be another long list. So, I guess you aren’t one thing for me. You are just… you.”

He chuckled to conceal how overwhelmed he felt. “Keep writing,” he said, “And now, tell me where you stay. It’s getting late. I must drop you.”

—

“Will we meet again?” she asked after the car stopped in front of her house.

“No,” he replied, “It will do you no good.”

“Can I write to you?”

“I’d look forward to your letters and your stories or next novel.”

She smiled, even as sadness washed over her face.

He leaned towards her once again, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her on forehead. “Good night, Karishma.”

“Good night, Mr. Sen,” she replied and got out of the car. She looked back once, when she reached the gate of her apartment. He lifted his hand in acknowledgement and drove off.

—

“Mr. Akash, isn’t it?”

“Yes Sir. Akash Malhotra,” Akash shook hands with Siddhartha. But he was puzzled. He hadn’t met Siddhartha Sen yet. How did he know his name? This was the first time Akash was attending a party his company had thrown for courting current and future customers.

“Siddhartha Sen. Good to see you here. So, you work for WS&G?”

“Yes. Mr. Sen.”

“I can see that you are puzzled. Yes. We have met. But in slightly unusual circumstances. Can we go someplace little more private? There! Nobody is there in the balcony.”

Akash followed him looking puzzled.

“I was with Karishma that night in the hotel…”

Akash looked like all blood had been drained out of his body.

“I know you were hurt. But please hear me out…”

“Why are we talking about that here, Mr. Sen? I don’t care and as far as I am concerned, I don’t know her.”

“Pardon me for sounding patronizing, young man. But I have seen a bit more of the world than you. You can say that you don’t care. But the hurt is evident in your eyes. I’m not trying to reunite you, or anything. But I think you have a shot at feeling better if you would just listen to me.”

Akash neither objected, nor agreed with him. Seeing him silent, Siddhartha continued and explained Karishma’s situation to him. “But what you would really want to know is that she hadn’t seen anyone other than me. And we didn’t sleep together. Never.”

If Akash had any questions, he was too tongue-tied to voice them.

“I don’t think she ever realized how badly it would have affected you. She just had too much on her mind. And not that you asked her either.”

“She could have told me before jumping into…”

“I don’t know why she didn’t. But I wouldn’t rush to judge a person.”

—

Dear Karishma,

I haven’t heard from you for quite some time. Suhas tells me that you have joined his company. Congratulations.

I hope everything is going well.

Siddhartha

—

Karishma let the phone ring. It must be a pocket dial. Why would he want to talk to her? But she was forced to pick up when the phone rang a second time.

“Hello,” she spoke uncertainly.

“Hello Karishma…” Akash’ voice was as uncertain and an awkward silence prevailed for a while. He broke it, “I was wondering… if we could meet once.”

“Meet? I don’t…”

“Please Karishma. Just once.”

“Fine. When?”

—

To be continued

Unusual Places (Part 10)

Posted Mish21 CommentsPosted in English, Karishma-Siddharth, Original

Dear Karishma,

It is time to make a confession. I write under a pseudonym. This isn’t my real name and apart from a few people in the publishing house, nobody knows my real identity. So, I can’t officially attend your launch function. But I assure you that I will be there in the audience. I’m sure that the publishers will bring some celebrity to the function and attract good crowd.

As the launch date nears, I suspect that you might be nervous. Don’t be. You have done a great job with the book and I’m sure it will be well-received.

All the best
Manthan

—

She scanned the audience as she fought her trepidations. Her brother was excited. Her mother couldn’t come because her father couldn’t be left alone at home. Among the other unfamiliar faces, who was he? People continued to trickle in even after the programme started. A representative from the publishing house introduced people on stage. They had indeed gotten couple of celebrity writers for the launch and it had ensured some audience. This was followed by the formal unveiling of the book. People talked about the book and she politely smiled, laughed or added a comment here and there. She read out a chapter from the novel. Her job as a teacher for almost a year now had improved her oratory skills and the reading was well-received. This was followed by a journalist discussing the finer points of the book with her.

“Some people might say that the character of Dadaji was not quite realistic,” the journalist said, “His actions defy any of the usual motivations people have.”

“Trust me, when they say that reality is stranger than fiction, they are right. The story is not autobiographical, nor is it real. But all the characters, their actions, their motivations are inspired by real life. If you really want to find a rhyme or reason to his behaviour, you can look at a little anecdote from his childhood which is mentioned at another place in the book. I won’t tell you what that is right now,” she chuckled, “But I hope that when people sitting here go back home and read the book, they notice it.”

“So, reality is stranger than fiction, according to you?”

“Absolutely. It is in fiction that we try to find rhyme and reason. Reality just is. It doesn’t obey our logic.” At that moment, her eyes fell on him. Wearing casuals, an amused glint in his eyes, his attention was fixed on her. They eyes met and she needed no rhyme or reason to tell her that it was him.

It took some effort to concentrate on the discussion after that. But she managed. Many in the audience were sufficiently impressed to want a signed copy of the book. When she managed to get done with all the formalities, she rushed out to look for him. But he was gone!

—

“Bittu. I need his number.”

“You know, I can’t do that, K.”

“You call him and tell him that I want to meet. Just once. Not for work.”

“That’s not right… Clients call us. We don’t…”

“You had broken your rule once when he had wanted to meet me on an off day, hadn’t you, Bittu? Break the rule once more!”

“Fine. Let me see what I can do.”

—

“Karishma. It’s so good to see you,” Siddhartha beamed at her. He was really happy.

“I have called you today,” She looked at the envelope he was discreetly offering her and chuckled, “I should be paying you. Unfortunately I can’t afford your time.”

He also laughed and stuffed the envelope back in his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I called you?” she said after a pause.

“Why?”

“I figured that you were not interested in a signed copy of my book. But I could use one of yours,” she held out a book for him. It was the same one he had found her reading in Dalhousie. Her favourite author’s!

He smiled, “So, you figured it out?”

“I have been rather thick all these days. But yes. Finally. I did.”

“Then you could just have written to me. Why did you take Bittu’s help?”

“Because there was a small probability that I had gotten it wrong. And if I had, I would rather be proven wrong before you than a celebrity author I had never met.”

Siddhartha looked at her for a moment, an amused smile playing on his lip. Then he motioned her to sit. “Come,” he said, “We will do the signing later.” He took the book from her and kept it on a table. Then he showed her a copy of her book that was also lying there. “I want my copy signed too.”

She sat on the sofa and he joined her.

“So, tell me. How have you been, Karishma?”

“You should tell me. Things have been difficult for you, haven’t they?”

He sighed and nodded, “Yes. Very difficult.”

“So? Was it indeed drug overdose?”

“Yes.”

“I am sorry.”

“I must have done something wrong with relationships…”

“You are being too hard on yourself.”

“Not really. You probably do not know, but this was my second failed marriage.”

“Still…” She grew thoughtful, stared at her hands in her lap and did not speak further.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she looked up and smiled at him.

“Before I forget, keep this card with you. Suhas is a close friend of mine. Runs a small advertising firm and is always on lookout for creative people – for copywriting. If you want to change your job to a better-paying one, give him a call and give my reference.”

She looked hesitant, “You’ve already paid for publishing my book, I think. Will you be indirectly paying my salary here too?”

Siddhartha frowned, “Who told you that I paid for your book?”

“Nobody. But a new, unknown writer doesn’t get this VIP treatment just like that.”

“I have helped their business through many rough patches. They owe me that much. And if I did make your book happen, it was because I thought it was good and should be published. I am recommending you this job only because I think it will suit you,” he sounded annoyed.

“Please. Don’t get mad. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s all right. I am just stressed out. I am very irritable these days.”

She nodded and took the card from him. “You have been through hell, Mr. Sen. But you did not abandon me. If I am not thanking you for it, it is because I don’t know how to. If I could ever do something for you…”

“You have done that already, Karishma. You have inspired me. I think… I am going to write again.”

—

To be continued

Unusual Places (Part 9)

Posted Mish4 CommentsPosted in English, Karishma-Siddharth, Original

Karishma had followed the news religiously.

“The divorce proceedings were long-drawn and ugly.”

“The death happened under suspicious circumstances. Industrialist claims that he was not in town.”

“The son told the reporters that his father drove his mother to suicide.”

“Siddhartha Sen claims that he and his wife have not spoken in last two years except in the presence of their lawyers.”

“Police questions industrialist Siddhartha Sen in connection with his wife’s death.”

“Siddhartha Sen refuses to talk to media. Company’s share price plunges. Recovers later.”

Bittu sent her a message. “He has sent your payment. Collect it. Doesn’t look like he’d meet you. Want to see someone else?”

Karishma met him to collect the money and told him that she was taking a break.

“I don’t know what all he has promised you, but these love stories never end well. You’d do better to move on. Especially with all this mess.”

“He hasn’t promised me anything. I can just… afford… to take a break.”

“Your wish. But whenever you want to come back, I am there.”

“I know. Thanks Bittu.”

—

Going by the news, Siddhartha’s life had settled down at least bit. The post-mortem reports were not made public, but there were rumours that she had died of drug overdose. The son had apologized for his earlier rash remark, made in a moment of “emotional vulnerability”. There was another news of him being offered a seat on the board of one of the group companies.

Siddhartha hadn’t tried to contact her still. Even during their trip, they hadn’t exchanged the contact details. So, the only way he could get in touch was through Bittu.  But he would probably not risk that anytime soon.

Karishma felt a depressing feeling wash over her. He had promised to help her plan her future. That wasn’t going to happen now. She was on her own, again. With a little more money than earlier!

She had wanted to be a teacher since her childhood and had taken up the job as a default choice. When it didn’t turn out to be paying enough, she had panicked. Now she had some cushion. She was thinking carefully and exploring options. Probably a change in the job? Something in the corporate world?

—

Dear Karishma,

It took me some time to read the novel. I am sending the manuscript back with some comments. You don’t necessarily have to make all the changes I have suggested. But you can think them over.

Would you like to publish it?

Best wishes
Manthan

—

Her attempts at finding a better-paying job had not been fruitful till now. She didn’t know how to get a foothold. The few small companies she had been able to get a call from weren’t paying any better than her current job.

Could publishing be the answer to her troubles?

—

Dear Mr. Manthan,

I had never seriously thought about publishing. I’m not even sure how to approach publishers and not end up in the unread or rejected pile. Do you have a suggestion?

I am working on revising the manuscript and send you a revised version in few days. It will be a typed copy.

Sincerely
Karishma

—

Dear Karishma,

I apologize for the delay in replying. I was waiting for your revised manuscript so that I could show it to my publishers. You should hear from them soon.

All the best
Manthan

—

Dear Mr. Manthan,

I don’t know how to thank you enough for whatever you have told your publishers. I haven’t heard of any new, unknown author, who has been given an advance for a book deal. They also told me that they would bring the book out in three months.

I must tell you that this deal not only brings me creative satisfaction, but is also a real help monetarily. It will save me from many professional and moral compromises that would, otherwise, have been inevitable.

I send my sincere gratitude and good wishes your way. I don’t know if you need this, but you will always be in my prayers.

Sincerely
Karishma

—

Dear Karishma,

I am glad that the book deal is helpful. Keep me updated on the progress of the project. I hope the book does well and you never have to make any moral or professional compromises.

By the way, I noticed only recently that you had completed my unfinished story. You should have told me what you had done. I had assumed that you had just returned me the originals.

Best wishes
Manthan

—

Dear Mr. Manthan,

Thanks a lot for mentioning your story. I was afraid that you had taken offense at my audacity and that’s why you did not say anything about it. How did you like my version of the story’s climax?

Publishers have sent me the edited manuscript. The project is going faster than planned. My guess is that it is your doing. So, thanks a lot once again.

Sincerely
Karishma

—

Dear Karishma,

To be honest, when I first realized that you had completed my story, I was astonished at what you call your audacity. When I read what you had written, I was ambivalent. If I had completed the story, my heroine would certainly not have done what you made her do. Then I spent some time thinking over it. And I realized that what you had done was better. It makes the character much stronger and also addresses a flaw in my writing that someone had pointed out to me recently. So, it is my turn to thank you.

I am waiting for your book to hit the market as eagerly as you are.

Best wishes
Manthan

—

Dear Mr. Manthan,

Thank you for not minding my audacity. When I read the incomplete story, the possible scenarios just kept playing in my mind and I felt compelled to write a climax for it.

Are you really not writing another book?

Sincerely
Karishma

—

Dear Karishma,

Probably someday the inspiration will strike again. Right now, I am not writing anything. Did you get around to reading the book I had sent?

Best wishes
Manthan

—

Dear Mr. Manthan,

I am half-way through the book. I must thank you for recommending and sending me the book. If I could write a book like this someday, I think I will happily and contentedly retire from everything.

The publisher tells me that they will organize a high-profile launch event for my novel. You must already be aware of it, because I think this is your doing too. Would you please attend the function? It would be an honour to meet you.

Sincerely
Karishma

—

To be continued