Weird and Wonderful

Chapter-3

Present Year

“This must be the address,” Saarthak thought as he stood at the corner. He was wearing a baseball cap which hid his face partially and anyway, no one would be able to recognise him in a faded blue shirt bought from a thrift shop and grey jeans. The E-mail was sent by someone named Swasti Khare if that was her real name. He looked at Google maps. According to the GPS location, the Email came from the house in front of him. It was convenient for him to have a tea stall where he was standing. He didn’t want to draw any attention. That’s why he came by his motorcycle instead of his usual BMW.

Saarthak’s eyes fell on a girl who stepped out of the bus which stopped in front of him. Her messy, curly hair seemed to compensate for her petite body. She was walking clumsily towards the house in front of him. Was she Swasti? But he had never seen her before. How could she send him that Email? Swasti was trying to unlock the door but she had chosen the wrong key. The girl did not remember even the key of her home! If there was any other person except Saarthak, he would have considered the girl as insane. But Saarthak knew these things happen when one is lost. He was lost himself. How could he make fun of another lost person?
Saarthak could see the girl clearly from where he was standing. She was beautiful! It was strange for Saarthak to feel like that for a girl. Obviously, some girls looked good but until now there was only one girl whom he found beautiful and she was...
“Forget it!” Saarthak said to himself. He was again falling in the trap of memories- the trap which haunted him each moment he breathed. Saarthak started his motorcycle. Anyway, Saarthak had a meeting scheduled with his publisher that evening. So he started his motorcycle and went away.

“So, the deal is done!” said Mr. Bakshi, the publisher, as he signed 10 million Rupees contract with Saarthak.
“Now it’s your turn to sign the contract,” Mr. Bakshi said to Saarthak. But Saarthak was not looking at him. Instead he was looking at a person through the glass door. It appeared to Saarthak as if his heart had stopped beating. He was sweating profusely.

“It is him,” Saarthak muttered. He could never mistake someone else for him. It was definitely him...

“Any problem?” Mr. Bakshi asked Saarthak.

“Mr. Bakshi, who is that guy in green shirt outside the door? Saarthak asked  Mr. Bakshi.

Mr. Bakshi looked through the door and said pointing towards the person, “Who? That one?”

“Yes.”

“Should I call him inside?” Mr. Bakshi asked  Saarthak.

“No! No! Don’t tell him I'm here!” Saarthak said, then correcting himself with a firm voice, "I mean, there's no need to call him. I don't have time to meet such a lowlife." It was hard for him to maintain his composure at the sight of that person. He wanted to run away from the place. But why should he run now? He was not the same timid Saarthak; now he was the most famous author of India. Finally it was his turn...

Saarthak smirked. He said to Mr. Bakshi in a calm voice, “There is no need to call him. Just ask his name and from where he belongs to.”

Mr. Bakshi went outside. After five minutes, he came back.

“His name is Shubham Maheshwari and he belongs to Kanpur. He is an intern in our office. But why do you want to know about that man? Mr. Bakshi was curious.

“Because I want you to fire him,” Saarthak said smiling.

“But why? How can I fire him for nothing?” Mr. Bakshi could not understand what was happening.

“Because, Mr. Bakshi, I am yet to sign the contract. And if I accept the offer made by your rival publishing house...”

“No! No!” Mr. Bakshi said as he dialed his secretary’s number on his cell phone.

“Nidhi, I want a termination letter for Mr. Shubham Maheshwari right now. No questions! Just bring the termination letter!” Mr. Bakshi said to his secretary over the phone.

“Have a good day, Mr. Bakshi!” Saarthak said with a smile. He wanted to see Shubham’s face when he would be fired but even now the thought of facing Shubham made him shudder.
Revenge is sweet. Perhaps the advocates of forgiveness had never faced the things which Saarthak had to go through. Revenge was really sweet, but its sweetness could never make the bitterness disappear from his life. Shubham would get another job, sooner or later, but Saarthak would never get his teenage years back.

Year - 2008

“Have you seen an Icchadhari gadha?” Shubham asked his friends whom he called as his gang, pointing towards Saarthak who entered the classroom with his head hung low. Saarthak said nothing. He sat on his seat and took his English assignment out of his bag.

“Oh! The donkey has completed his assignment!” As Shubham said these words, his gang started laughing out loud.

“Hey,idiot! As Shubham stood before Saarthak’s desk, Saarthak started trembling. It was not a good sign for him.
“W...What?” Saarthak stammered.

“Are you completely stupid? Give me your assignment!” Shubham demanded as he slapped Saarthak.

“I...I can’t give you m...my assignment,” Saarthak said. His body was shaking with fear. He could give Shubham any assignment, but not his English assignment. This was not due to the fact that he feared English teacher’s punishment. He was used to the ruthless punishments in school. What he feared was that Mrs Thakur, the English teacher called the parents of the defaulters to school. And if the teacher called his father to school, then...Even imagining the consequence made filled each cell of his body with fear.

“How dare you refuse to give me your assignment?” Shubham said. His eyes were bloodshot. No one dared to say no to Shubham. Then how can a sissy like Saarthak refuse to give the assignment to him? Shubham punched Saarthak on his face.

“Do you still say no?” Shubham said in a menacing tone. Saarthak clutched his assignment tighter. Another blow caught the side of his face, sending him crashing against the desks and throwing him onto his back. Then Shubham kicked Saarthak on his chest. Saarthak looked around. He knew that no one in the class would help him. He knew that his classmates were making fun of him.
Just then Mrs Thakur entered the class room. Everyone was silent. Saarthak looked at the bits and pieces of his assignment which was ripped apart amidst the kicks and blows. Suddenly Shubham stood up, saying, “Excuse me, Ma’am?”

“Yes,” said Mrs Thakur, without looking at him.

“Ma’am, Saarthak has not brought his assignment, so he asked me to give my assignment to him. When I refused, he tore my assignment,” Shubham said.

“No, Ma’am, I have not done anything," Saarthak said, wondering how could Shubham stoop so low. He had not expected anyone in the class to stand up for him. How could he when even he could not stand for himself?

“Saarthak, come here,”Mrs Thakur said.

Saarthak was relieved a little. He went towards her.

“Oh! Your hands are so soft! Do you use moisturizing cream? Mrs Thakur said, holding his hand and caressing the back of his palm.

“No, Ma’am!’”Saarthak’s shyly replied.
“Perhaps you’ll need a moisturizing cream after this,” Mrs Thakur said and struck the back of Saarthak’s palm with her steel ruler.

“I will not tolerate such nonsense in my class.” Mrs Thakur was roaring, “And you Saarthak, if your brain is not good enough, at least your behaviour should be proper. But your behaviour is also retarded just like your brain.”

She struck the back of Saarthak’s palm with her scale ten times. Saarthak tried to stop his tears from flowing but the tears seemed to listen to his unbearable pain.

“And now, page no. -41, second paragraph, and”,’ Mrs.Thakur said as if nothing had happened, “Saarthak, don’t forget to bring your father to school on Monday at 9 A.M.”

The remaining English class passed without any incident.

Reminiscing about the incident which took place seven years ago, Saarthak thought that revenge was indeed sweet.