What is the question? │✔

{ 6 }

"That would be forty rupees Masterji."

His eyes raked over the bright blue Ujala bottles. They possibly couldn't cost that much, mused the Math teacher, eyeing the stupid calculator which lay on the counter. That was until his eyes fell over the small cream biscuit packet which was slipped into the polythene bag. Lifting it, he kept it on the counter, signaling a 'no'.

"Masterji, Veer Babu has asked me to always put that biscuit in your order list, whenever you come here."

"Of course he did, didn't he?"

Sighing, he used his two fingers to pick up the unnecessary commodity and dropped it back into his bag. He would deal with this soon. Picking up his things, he walked out of the shop, hanging the plastic polythene on one of the arms of Chandni. Kicking her, he drove into the illuminated road, which was in a good condition, only because it was the center of the city.

Once again, entering the old lanes, he stopped at his destination. Home. At least, now it was. Ascending the creaking stairs, he slowed down on seeing his immediate neighbor.

Putting up the lantern, she let it hang there, as it shook for a while and then stopped altogether. The light which should have brightened up the whole corridor, let her drown her face in its glow, yet, nothing compared to the smile she gave, hypnotized by the swarm of fireflies.

"Jugnoo!" a gasp or rather, a figment of his memory, spoke out.

Shaken, he proceeded towards Veer's door but paused all of a sudden. Turning back, he voiced out.

"Devi, any letters or post for me?"

Never had he ever received any letters, only expensive couriers from prestigious institutions. And even Devi knew that much about the man who stood in front of her. Another person who never got letters was probably locked up in his own room, at the other end of the corridor, she mused. She could never stand mysterious people. And Masterji, though reserved, was never mysterious. Just a simple man with great thoughts. An intellect with too little time to be a common man. That's who he was.

Maybe that is why, she knew, that the inquiry was merely an attempt of him trying to be polite. Or just him being down to earth, striking up a conversation with an ordinary person like her. Moving her head for a 'no', she reached out for her pastel stole, wrapping it tighter, as the soon-to-be arriving monsoon chills got the better of her. A small echo hit her head, as she remembered an important detail.

"Masterji, why don't you bring 'V' out here? He loves watching those fireflies!"

Nodding, he got away from there, stopping by Veer's door. Stepping inside, he watched the boy engrossed in some old highlights running on the screen, and lightly tapped his head. Kicking him out of the apartment the next second, he placed the biscuits on his table and walked to his own home.

Leaving the door open for Veer, he busied himself, the finger caps back to their rightful positions. Chopping up the potatoes, Aloo Posto it is, he decided, craving for it at once. Still, he chose to go over the dinner menu with Veer, who he knew, would agree straight away.

Prancing down the corridor, he opened his mouth to ask. However, words failed to reach his tongue, as he saw a shadow emerging out of the telephone booth on the ground floor. Eyes quickly shifted to the cheap watch on his wrist, which read 'ten thirty-seven'. A man roaming outside at night, that too at such a timing? Or specifically, on this cold monsoon night?

Curious, he walked over to the rail on the corridor, for a closer view.

Dark. It was so dark that someone's presence could also not be seen. And the power cut made the streetlights useless.

Yet, even the moonlight could not stop itself from falling over the beard. And that one feature, was more than enough for Indroneel to figure out who it was.

He did not know what he was up to. But he could already say, such characters would have a tough time living in their society, especially if he kept up those suspicious acts.

Sighing, yet again, he called out for his kid, and with the latter's agreement to the menu, he set to work again.

The water hit the sink, rattling down on the chopped vegetables, creating mayhem amidst the silence; its disturbing similarity to their looming fates, somewhat alarming.