PROLOGUE

“In whatever way I am approached, in that way do I respond. All men come, by whatever paths, to Me.”

My day began, as usual, with a recital of a quote from the Bhagavad Gita. After that, it was time for contemplation. Sitting cross-legged on the mat, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. After a few seconds, everything seemed to slow down. My breaths became deep. I waited for the feeling of the presence. And it came.

I wanted to prolong it. Perhaps an insight would appear. What is salvation? Is it something you get after death? Or is it possible to achieve it while being alive?

Nope. I wouldn’t gain a sixth-sense if I wouldn’t stop thinking. I decided to try again. But rather than getting an insight, I heard a loud Nokia tune.

“What the hell?”

It was my phone. Irked, I slowly opened my eyes, got up from the mat and walked towards the table. Just as I was about to pick up the phone, it stopped ringing.

“Nonsense!”

I checked the missed call. Instead of showing a name, the screen displayed a number that began with the code +1. Who could that be? I had friends and acquaintences in the US. But I didn’t know the code of any state.

“Ignorance is bliss,” I noted with sarcasm. “So much for my sixth sense.”

***

I picked up the tools and began working on my Honda Activa. In a few minutes, I removed the spark plug.

I had at least a fortnight’s time before the results of the All-India MBBS Entrance exam would be published. The catch is my age. I’m not a seventeen year old guy. This is my third attempt at getting a medical seat. I’m neither nineteen nor twenty. I’m a B.Sc. Zoology graduate. The entire college had expected me to come first in my final year exams. Nobody had promised that I would get an award from college if I bagged that position. My romance with a classmate also had nothing to do with my performance at the exams. The death of a classmate too wasn’t an excuse. As it turned out, it was a class fellow hailing from a financially backward family who not only came first in college, but also stood first in our university. She was showered with medallions, gifts and certificates.

“So, finally, defeated,” was the class teacher’s comment, as I met her at college after the results were declared. Justice had been served. The non-existent type of person who never mixed with anyone and anything but books and lab instruments had come out resplendent.

So, no complaints about who deserved what and eventually got what. The degree fiasco was very significant because it made me pursue an MBBS seat which I haven’t been able to bag even after spending my time at a QD Thomas asylum.

I call it an asylum…..not because I was kicked out of classes for a week for ‘talking in the class’, when I wasn’t even whispering a religious mantra; not because I was asked to shut up when I realized and tried to speak that they had allotted me a seat in the wrong class…..an engineering coaching class; and not even because I was in a room with absolutely everybody programmed to think each and every second of their existence about a problem, so that they had to actually be trained to stop thinking for a second. It was Keerthi. No, she wasn’t an inmate at our place. She had been my degree classmate. Every waking hour of my life was interspersed with my study lectures and her expressions. Eventually every page of revision was filled with memories of this female.

What had she wanted from me that she eventually got and left the place without telling me a word? If I had written a poem about her, then I’m sure I would have given people like Omar Khayyam a run for their money. Almost every moment was alive with imagination…..about her.

In about half an hour, I finished my work on the Activa. It wasn’t as good as new. But a gentle push of the ignition switch got it started.

Hmm……the Nokia tune again. I reached for the cell in my pocket. Another missed call. The same number from the USA. I wore my helmet, mounted my scooter and rode away.

It was a sunny day. The sky was blue with a few shades of white dancing slowly as if in synchrony. All creatures of nature are fabulous to observe, to listen and to feel. I was immersed in the beauty of the surroundings….until I spotted the Highway Police Patrol. One of the khaki clad men signaled me to stop. I obeyed his command. Before being asked, I produced the vehicle documents.

As the police examined my documents, I noticed an auto-rickshaw pass by. It had a name painted in front: Keerthana. Yes, that’s her name. Keerthana. But I liked to call her ‘Keerthi’.

“Son, all your documents are ready,” the policeman said. I wondered whether there was any prefix or suffix for the word ‘son’. But he was the kind sort of guy.

“Wear the strap of your helmet,” he commanded. Actually……not so kind. I discovered that I hadn’t put it on.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” There! I strapped it.

“Son, wear a helmet properly. Don’t you read the newspapers? Do you know how many people die in bike accidents everyday? If you enquire, you’ll make out that almost all of them weren’t wearing helmets at the time of the accidents. If YOU don’t care about your life, should WE?”

“Wearing headgear is not sufficient,” added his partner-in-crime. “You must also secure your strap. Else there is no use having the thing on. Okay, we’re letting you off now, but from now on, be careful.”

They resumed their hunt as I resumed my journey to the nearest ATM.