“No, I just don’t believe that now,” Aunt Rosa said with a disapproving tut.
“No! It is for my sister Auntie, I swear, I have told you a dozen times already it is for my sister, I swear I am not lying,” the boy raised his voice to spoke with emphasis, but good ole Aunt Rosa just refused to let go of her suspicions.
“Oh, why don’t you tell her, it’s nothing to be ashamed of?” It was the other boy, the one that had come to assist his friend in his little shopping excursion who now spoke, a little tired of the repeated arguments with the shopkeeper lady. Kings XI Punjab was playing this evening and he was desperate to get home in time for it but that was just not going to happen unless they somehow passed this impasse. “It is for his girlfriend Auntie, it is their one month anniversary tomorrow, and he wants to buy some special card for her,” He now revealed, ignoring the possible ire of his friend he risked attracting by revealing his secret.
“See, see, I knew it was that, I can spot a lie from a thousand yards young man,” Aunt Rosa said with an air of triumph, her experienced eyes had served her well once again. “But why do you lie, I see no reason why a young man should be ashamed of his love for a young woman. See my husband Charlie never was, although the rules against love were much stricter in our times, and on top of that, count that we came from different religions, him being a Christian, and I a young Hindu girl, but he was never ashamed, yes, he did blush a lot on occasions, that is true, like when he confessed his love to me, oh, he was a regular scarlet Charlie then, stuttering and stammering, but it was a blush of Amor’, not at all a blush of being ashamed, and then again, when he met my parents and told them of his love for me and asked for my hand, I remember him turning red like a tomato, but it was because of his sheer reverence towards them, and then I remember when he held our child for the first time, oh how he blushed in his fatherly sentiment and broke in to tears, and afterwards when he turned old and would tell young boys like you the story of our love, oh how he would blush in the warmth of all those memories, just as I am blushing now,” Her voice was getting more and more enlivened as she painted the brief portrait of her late husband to the two young boys, her cheeks likewise getting filled with a sanguine glow.
But the two boys did not share any of her vivacity, the first one rather annoyed at her interference in his personal business, while the second one getting more nettled by the further delay her long speech was causing them.
“Well, now that I know the truth, I should be able to help you find a perfect card for her,” Old Aunt Rosa went on, oblivious of her customer’s thoughts. “A one month anniversary, now that should be special, we need a card that should speak a little about the personality of the one gifting it, as well as appeal to the personality of the one receiving it. Tell me then, in good detail, about you and your special friend and I promise we will find just the perfect card for you,” She offered.
“let’s just go yaar, I know another good shop which is only a little distance from here,” the second boy suddenly suggested, he had calculated that it would take less time for them to go to another shop and buy a card there, than it would take in telling this old woman the whole story of his friend’s romance.
The first boy was all too ready to oblige and at once the two of them took off towards the exit of the shop, leaving Aunt Rosa more than a little dismayed at this sharp turn in the events. Sales were already low, and despite her most diligent efforts, she was about to lose another precious customer!
“Come on now, don’t be so rash…” but before Aunt Rosa could complete her sentence, or before the boys could step out of the shop’s glass door, it was Kamal, who came in their path, and began to engage them in a little talk.
Within a few seconds, he managed to bring the boys back to the aisle, and after silencing his Aunt with an urgent signal of his eyes, he went on to show those boys some cards, and only within a couple of minutes, he was standing with them at the shop’s cash counter, billing them for their purchase.
“The first card my Charlie bought for me, he went all the way to Jalandhar to buy it, for he was not able to find the perfect one in any of the local shops. And look at today’s generation, no ethics at all,” a disappointed Aunt Rosa murmured to Anoothi, as her nephew was making the abysmal sale.
“Well, each generation has their own ethos I believe,” Anoothi put forth, she was of course all too well aware of Aunt Rosa’s unbarred inquisitiveness as well as of her love for sharing anecdotes, and for that, she thought she could provide her the perfect victim. “This here Aunt Rosa, is Mr. Raghuvir Dixit; he is the new professor of English literature in my college, a good man, and as far as I have heard, an even better poet,” she spoke, exchanging with Raghuvir a little smile. “And yes, one thing more, he has spent his adult life living in eight different cities, searching for a long lost love.”
“Scouring eight cities, just to search for lost love..!!” Aunt Rosa exclaimed, her wide eyes now staring at Raghuvir as if he was some kind of mystery she must get to the bottom of. From that look alone, Anoothi knew that her words had done their job. It was going to be fun watching the professor squirm under Aunt Rosa’s ill-famed interrogation.
As per her expectations then, as soon as the old lady recovered from the surprise of the revelation, she started badgering the professor with an unrelenting volley of questions. Who was she? How did they meet? How did they part? What cities had he been to in his search of her? What was her personality like? Did he love this girl as much as her own late husband loved her?
As Anoothi continued to smile at him her cheeky smile, Raghuvir felt himself pushed in to a corner under the quick and countless punches of Aunt Rosa’s queries, and in all of it, he found that he had a question of his own he wanted answered first– Just which of the Rosas was more dangerous to the human sentience? Rosa, the car or Rosa, the aunt?
“Don’t be silent now young man; please do share your story, eager I am to hear it,” Aunt Rosa urged, noticing that the professor was looking a little hesitant.
“Oh, come on Auntie, stop hassling the professor already.” It was Kamal, who had returned after completing the sale and now tried to rescue the professor from the clutches of his Aunt’s questions.
“Hassling it is huh? I ask what is so wrong about a human being wishing to know the story of another human being. An infringement upon privacy you young people call it, but how are we supposed to expand our horizons if we adamantly confine our cares to just our own affairs. I surely can’t, I am a normal human having normal human interests in other normal humans, it is my way, the only other way I see is to become an ascetic, go to the Himalayas and live in a cave there, but that is not my way, my way is the human way and I can’t believe that my humanity is being termed by you, young man, as hassling,” Aunt Rosa complained vehemently, shaking her head all throughout her little tirade.
“Oh, don’t start with the humanity thing again,” Kamal sighed, knowing how difficult it was to win in any argument with his Aunt.
“So I am a human, and I am not allowed to talk about humanity, or are you saying that I am not a human then?” Aunt Rosa shot back.
“Oh come on, I never said that,” Kamal defended himself.
“But you are certainly implying it,” Aunt Rosa riposted.
“In my hometown she lived, at the town’s square I saw her, beautiful and lovely she was, fell in love with her I at once, courted her and sang her I serenades, and in time she gave me her heart. Oh how blessed I felt, as her love for me by her tongue was spelt, a long time I spent sharing her sweet affections, with her I would grow old was my prayer and prediction, but then fortune dealt us a cruel fate, amidst us a schism it create, I, a young boy, went away to pursue my education, and she being a girl, for being a girl was her only fault, had her dreams suffer a truncation, mathematics she wanted to study, to paint the whole world with her equations, but her family deemed it to be above her station, never saw her again I, for on returning I learned with a sad sigh,
that riots had broken out in our town while I was gone, driving her woebegone Christian family away towards the North, and in North I have searched for her since, on occasions with a smile, on occasions with a wince, and here is a photograph of her now I show to you, hoping you would be able to assist this hapless search with some sort of a clue.” And so Raghuvir took out the photograph so dear to him and showed it to Aunt Rosa, who at first did not respond to it, for his narration had bounded her, just as it had bounded the others around, in to a temporary state of fixation.
In time though she rubbed her eyes, shook her head and managed to wring herself out of her thoughts.
“Ah, such, such a tragedy,” she commented, placing her hand on Raghuvir’s shoulder and squeezing it to convey her commiseration.
Kamal meanwhile looked equally sad but it was Anoothi who looked the most aggrieved. She had spent the whole afternoon passing judgment in her mind on the nomadic search of this man, painting him as some delinquent stalker for it, but now as the reality was revealed to her; let’s just say it did not make for a very pleasant feeling.
Aunt Rosa meanwhile was staining her eyes and looking at the picture in apt concentration. For a long while she looked at it, first with her neck tilted to the left, then with her neck tilted to the right, then with her spectacles on, then with her spectacles off, and it was only after trying all the various permutations and combinations possible, that she ruefully declared to have never seen anyone bearing a resemblance to the girl in the picture.
“Are you sure Auntie?” Kamal asked, to which the old woman nodded her head. He sincerely wanted the professor to be successful in his search, especially after listening to his story. “Well may be she lives in the suburbs, people from the suburbs rarely come to Chaura Bazaar.”
“That is certainly a possibility, or maybe she lives nearby but isn’t too fond of shopping, was she fond of shopping professor?” It was Anoothi who asked, now trying to contribute her bit too.
“She was. Thanks guys, but I guess it was fate that parted us, and it shall be fate that will bring us back together,” Raghuvir replied, forcing a weak smile on his face. “Who knows, maybe her family never came up north, it was just the station Master who saw her and her family take a train which was headed for Delhi, maybe he was deceived, or perhaps they were just taking a detour to go elsewhere,” he pondered dolefully.
But in that conjecture he was wrong, for the girl he was searching for had indeed come up North, to be more specific she had come to the hill station of Shimla in the lower Himalayas, where she had gone on to fulfill her dream of studying higher Mathematics.
And in that shop right then was present someone who knew all this!
It was the ghostess of love, who had been hovering nearby as a silent spectator while the woeful story was narrated, and just like the others in the room; it had made her soul weep a tear or two.
*******
It was a rare cool summer evening in the city as the seven ghosts were once again gathered over the old Banyan tree in Rakh Bagh, with Jolly Singh joining them for company. Presided over by the latter, the agenda of the present meeting was to solve the ongoing dispute between the ghostess of dreams and the ghost of contentment in the case of one Kritika Chaudhary of Atam Nagar, Ludhiana.
“The girl’s father is correct when he says that he fears for the safety of his daughter in sending her out of town.” A serious looking Jai Prakash said, hovering to the right of Jolly Singh, who as the case arbitrator had taken one whole side of the Banyan tree for himself.
“Prakatam Vastunam,” he then enunciated, making a few official looking documents appear in his hand. “These are the statistics for the number of girls that have been sexually assaulted in this country over the past ten years. Very clearly the high numbers make a valid reason for the father’s concerns,” he closed his eyes and said another mantra which made the documents float forth to Jolly Singh, who promptly took them up for a closer glance. The numbers were disconcertingly high indeed!
“Now it is not a case of the girl’s father trying to bar her from further education. In fact, he is perfectly content if only she joins a local college for it,” Jai Prakash continued, and made some more documents manifest themselves in his hand. “These are the statistics comparing the last ten years’ average performance between this local college and the out-of-town college the girl wants to join. They are compiled over eight important parameters such as overall quality of education, results, placements, mental and physical well being of the students etc. and what they show is that the two institutes fare very close to each other in almost all of them,” Jai Prakash then maneuvered these documents over to Jolly Singh as well. It was evident that he had come well prepared for this case.
“In light of all this, the right course of action here is for this girl to find contentment in joining the college of her father’s choice. It is surely the best way forward for all parties concerned,” he thus summarized and concluded his argument.
All eyes including that of the arbitrator, now turned to Roshni, an agitated looking Roshni, who was currently in precise opposition to Jai Prakash, position as well as opinion wise. Everybody knew that it was going to be a very difficult task for the inexperienced ghostess to beat a wily old fox like Jai Prakash, most of them expecting her to just throw an emotional tirade or two at best, which would ultimately hold no weight in front of Jai Prakash’s rigorous statistics. But how wrong were they going to be proved!
“Since the whole case rests on these sexual assault statistics, let me present some of my own,” Roshni spoke and brought out a few documents of her own. “These too are official crime stats, which say that a large number of these assaults are perpetrated by people who are relatives or live nearby to the girl. First of all, I am completely against stopping this girl from following her dreams in the name of a rape-scare, but even if safety is a big consideration, then it is clear that for a girl, her hometown is no safe haven either.” It was a quick and concise argument that she put forth, kicking away the very fulcrum upon which the ghost of contentment had based his case on.
“You have anything further to say?” Jolly Singh asked Jai Prakash, and upon the latter shaking his head, he announced his judgment.
“As an independent arbitrator appointed to this case by the Council, I hereby pronounce that this girl, Kritika Chaudhary of Atam Nagar, be not only allowed, but assisted in her endeavor to go to a college of her own choosing. Furthermore, no more attempts shall be made by any of you seven to deter her from the same. And so my judgment rests,” Jolly Singh announced with a majestic air, striking his imaginary gavel in the air as he gave his verdict.
The disappointment which etched itself on Jai Prakash’s face at this unfavorable verdict was quite palpable, despite his best efforts to hide it behind the veil of a formal smile. Roshni though, was quite happy; now with this barrier removed, she could really help this young girl go after her dreams, which was something she had intended to do from the very first day itself, for no matter what Jai Prakash said, in her eyes none of it made a valid reason for making someone give up on their aspirations.
And so the matter thus settled, the ghosts began to employ themselves in some light confabulation, and in all of it, no one was able to notice the perturbation which was presently chafing the thoughts of the ghostess of love, not even Ankit, the young man who claimed to be so piously in love with her.
By and by the congregation began to break up, with customary farewells each heading off to attend to his or her personal affairs, and so it was not long before everyone was gone, everyone except Neha and Ankit.
“Hey, there’s something I need to ask you,” Ankit said, trying to draw in the attentions of Neha, who was absently looking in the direction where the last of the specters had headed off to.
“Yeah, what is it?” Neha asked, without turning to look at him.
“The manner in which the ghost of contentment made those papers float towards the Sardar J
i, I mean, how did he manage to do that? I saw his lips move in a silent enunciation before it happened, how come you never taught me that mantra?” Ankit inquired with much curiosity. He had wanted to ask this question ever since witnessing the original enchantment but had held back on it because of the presence of the others.
“It was a Dvijya,” responded Neha, trying to pull her thoughts off her own troubles as she knew that Ankit would need further elucidation on the subject.
“The mantras in our ethereal world, they are of two categories, the Sugams and the Dvijyas. The Sugam ones are of common knowledge, like the ones I taught you on your first day here. But Dvijyas, these are the mantras which are hidden, their knowledge esoteric, inscribed in ancient books and on rocks in the form of ciphers and allegories, these can be decoded through years of hard study, or sometimes through plain dumb luck. Wait, let me show you something.” And stopping momentarily in her explanation, the ghostess of love closed her eyes and began to enunciate a silent mantra, a Dvijya.
Suddenly zipped out of her, a replica, looks wise an exact copy of who she was, and side by side they began to hover, two of the same kind. Just that there was a difference in the emotions on their countenances, one was looking calm and poised, while the other appeared to be vexed with some great worry.
“See, this Dvijya had helped me split myself in to two forms, each representing a part of my conscience,” the calm and poised one now spoke, smiling at a nonplussed Ankit, who was just standing there with his mouth agape. And he continued to be overwhelmed with a feeling a bewilderment, as he then watched the two Nehas exchange a look amidst themselves, before suddenly the flustered one fleeted away in to the night’s sky.
“Wow, I mean, I totally want to learn this one,” Ankit declared, thinking of all the fun that he could have with this power.
“I wish I could teach you, but that is the thing about a Dvijya, it only serves a single ghost at a time. Say if I pass this on to you, then although it will come under your beck and call, I will no longer be able to use it. That is why you will seldom find a ghost willing to teach you a Dvijya, one must learn one from one’s own labors,” the poised ghostess continued to smile, despite the sullen look that had come across Ankit’s face on learning that he would not be replicating himself like her anytime soon.