Her Calling

Setting it Right

He was waiting in the lobby when she came back after her morning jog.

"Prof. Khanna!" she barely managed to speak; she seemed to have over-exerted herself and was panting heavily.

"Can we talk somewhere?"

"My... room?"

"Yeah."

She hastily swept away the night-dress and underwear she had discarded on her bed and stuffed them in the cupboard, then motioned him to sit. The single chair in the room was piled with clothes, books, a hair dryer and ever possible article of daily use. So, he had to sit on the bed. She remained standing near the cupboard.

"Why is it so difficult for you to sit down and talk?" he spoke, "I was surprised - yes - and I have my concerns about whether this is the right decision for you. But that didn't mean you had to run away like that."

"I'm sorry. I was..."

"Yes?"

"I was already embarrassed after our last encounter in Mumbai. And then it got all muddled up..."

"Well, that encounter was better, come to think of it. You were at least talking. It was less exasperating."

She looked away towards the window and didn't respond.

"Do you have some wine lying around here?"

"Whisky," she blurted absently, and then realized the absurdity of the question, "What? Why?"

"Probably that will help you actually talk?"

"That's not needed," she replied dryly, "I'm sorry about everything. I am listening now."

"How did you final semester exams go?"

"Huh?"

"Exams? When we last met, you still had a semester to finish. How did the exams go?"

"They went well. Results are also out."

"What do you plan to do next? Find a job? Study further?"

"I don't know yet."

"Is that why you are here? To figure things out?"

"I was... I just hoped to make myself useful."

"You already have. You have no idea how useful all the extra money you have raised has been. You could come and see for yourself..."

"I don't want to go around inspecting. If you like to show all that off so much, you could always call Kaku and other donors. They would be happy to oblige, probably combining it with their vacations."

"You, on the other hand, want to work in the field?"

"Yes."

"Rupali. Ranikhet is a tourist place. You'd more or less find whatever you need here. The center you visited, where I reside most of the time, is the headquarter of our operations. That itself, you have seen, is so remote. Others are worse. There is nothing there. Sometimes even the basic amenities have to be scraped together. You have dig out a road buried under snow yourself, if you want to reach the market; else you would starve to death waiting for government mechanism to come into action. There are no western toilets constructed for tourists..."

"I can use Indian toilet."

He frowned, then broke into a laughter, "I forgot who I was dealing with. You are out to prove that you can rise up to my challenge. Fair enough. Just know that I am not out to prove you wrong either. I never was. I'd be very happy to have you here. A sincere volunteer who doesn't need a salary is even better than a year worth of donations. It was my duty to warn you of the difficulties. Now that I have done that, I will go back and find an accommodation for you. It will take some time because we have never had a long-term female volunteer in past. What you have to promise me is at least six months of commitment. In less time than that, doing anything significant is not really possible."

"Thank you," her smile was so warm and her eyes sparkled with such enthusiasm that Paritosh felt like giving her a tight hug. But he desisted.

"I will take your leave then," he got up to leave.

"Can I invite you to have breakfast with me?"

His first impulse was to refuse, but recalling how she had shown a desperate need for his approval, he agreed.

"Give me five minutes. I will take a quick shower; then we can go downstairs. To the restaurant."

Before he could propose waiting in the lobby, she had disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Left alone, Paritosh looked around the room. Laptop in one corner of the bed, an iPhone next to it, a strange set of books strewn all around the room - a romance here, a mystery there, a move-on-from-past self-help book on the table... Next to that was a pile of A4 sheets. Curious, Paritosh walked over and leafed through them. They were photocopies of journal articles, mostly on criminal psychology, specifically those dealing with perpetrators of crimes like rape and child abuse. She seemed to be working on some specific project. What was her motivation, he wondered.

When he heard the bathroom door opening, he hastily withdrew from the table and stood near the window, pretending to be looking out of it.

"We can go now," he turned on hearing her voice. She was taking the towel off her head. There was something so intimate about watching her tie her wet hair in a lose knot that he wanted to look away, but he could not. He stood transfixed, staring. He averted his eyes, when she turned to him; then looked back with what he hoped was not a rude stare.

"Yeah. Let's go."