Destined to Meet

Debasis Tripathy

Fiction by Debasis Tripathy

The remote retreat located about a hundred miles away from the nearest town was perfectly drowned in silence. The order of the place was stillness. So much so that even the few pet animals who were the permanent inhabitants of the retreat had turned mute and meek.

There were male and female meditators in the retreat but by the rule of the place they were barred to intermingle; not even eye contact was permitted - complete segregation of the genders and the only place you found both males and females together was in the meditation hall, where anyways all were supposed to keep their eyes shut. It was a life of total renunciation – practicing the life of a monk or a nun - for two weeks during the course.  Everyone was supposed to practice abstinence from desires and ‘noble silence’ - total silence of voice and thoughts.

An outsider could see soundless queues of meditators slowly moving through the prescribed paths for a few minutes on their way to the canteen or on their way back to their rooms or if they desired to breathe in some fresh air. There was no one to enforce the rules, which were boldly displayed on whiteboards at the junctions and the central meditation hall, but none had the will to break them either. People had come there of their own choice; they were misfits in the crowded and noisy world. They had enough of breaking the rules of the world.

One bright Indian winter morning a day before the completion of the course Rishi Dash, a banker by profession and a loner of late, was strolling along the strip guarded by Neem and Peepal trees after four hours of ‘standstill’ meditation session that had started at 4 A.M, his hands in his track-pant pockets and stomach empty, he suddenly came face to face with an acquaintance — Sonali Mishra, a chum from their college days. It was a very awkward moment for both of them, yet the silence was not broken.

Before they graduated out from Ravenshaw College they had been in the habit, every morning, of setting forth for a long jog along Mahanadi River with a bottle of water tucked to their waist straps. He would wait for her in front of ladies hostel before dawn set in and the moment it turned a little lighted they would run side by side for the next hour.  The meeting will end with a breakfast of DahiBara Aloo Dum, a local delicacy and a favorite of theirs.

And every Sunday Rishi and Sonali, a shy, slender attractive girl with dark black eyes, equally black long hair and also a movie buff, would meet at the nearby movie hall and they would spend three hours side by side, watching any movie which got released that week. They had a warm friendship. There was a strong rumour in the college that they were in a relationship, although both of them never could propose to the other.  They just remained good friends, primarily because of inherent reticence and an unknown reluctance. Rishi, a young man who was a few months older than Sonali, was from a humble background and his goal in life in that phase of life was to make it big in life.

On the fourteenth day, when in the conclusion event ‘noble-silence’ was broken Rishi met Sonali at the reception area.  He felt a chaotic eruption, unrest forming within him. A fortnight of silence and meditation had turned him to a mode of heightened solitude and discipline. In a way, he’d started liking this form of ‘ideal’ life and there was no noble form of chatter that he wanted to indulge in. Rishi also had this problem of confronting his past.  He conversed with himself thus:

“Regardless of where my journey of life takes me, hopefully now I’m more ready to accept life, as it comes”

Both of them were jobless - Rishi had lost his job. Sonali never cared to do a proper job; she had briefly been associated with a few non-profit organizations, but it never lasted long enough. They did not have to worry about ‘what-next’ during the last fortnight. Now it was different and felt awkward. 

Rishi broke the silence “So, what next Sonali?”

Sonali responded without even having to think "Nothing.  I am in no hurry to return. As such there's no one waiting for me"

Rishi, surprised at the coincidence remarked “Same here. I lost my job a month back. No family to call my own” 

And these few words served enough to make them understand that they had not made many new friends in life after they’d departed.  They had wished success to each other on the farewell day at college and never stayed in touch thereafter. For some strange uncomfortable reason, they did not speak much to each other towards the last few days of college.

Rishi had enough of being alone in this vast world, he shared an idea “I am planning to go on a long road trip. When I was in my job, I always wanted to take a long train journey, but that could not happen.  And yeah… buy a Royal Enfield Bullet. I am buying it from a friend in Delhi. The idea is to go to Delhi by train and pick up the bike from him.”

After a pause, he continued with some hesitation "Would you like to join me on this trip?” This hesitation was nothing compared to how he floundered to propose Sonali of a future together during their days of being together.

Sonali did not say anything but both of them well interpreted that she was okay to join the new journey. They headed straight to the railway station and bribed their way through to buy two tickets to New Delhi.  On the bike and a vague destination in mind, they set off to a lesser-known hill station in the Himalayan state of Uttarakhand.

Driving through the mountain roads, early in the morning, when the fresh sun weakened the mist to be swallowed by the cold air Rishi would remark casually to his pillion driver:

 “Sonali, it’s pleasant here”

To which the other would reply “I can’t think of anything better!”

And terse exchanges like this helped a long way to bolster their friendship and further complement their mutual appreciation. They still did not speak much; at other times they chatted; but they always deduced each other thoroughly, even without the service of a conversation, having similar characters and feelings and being so similar. They had not changed much, though grown older.

On another day, toward the eventide, when the setting sun would cast a crimson shadow over the clouds in the horizon and along with it displayed a rushing radiance on the faces of the two riders, Rishi would say beamingly interrupting the still silence:

“Brilliant, simply marvelous!”

And Sonali would nod, her head heavy with a load of the helmet, too big for her head.

“This is even better than the last few days of 'noble silence'. What say you, Rishi?”

And they would turn wordless again for a long stretch. Sometimes, the silence was the way for them to convey repentantly to each other what they'd missed in life before now.

 “And we are yet to reach heaven! This is just the way.” Rishi declared.

The sun showered its charming rays and the cool breeze splashed on their faces. They no longer remembered anything or thought of the future. They drove along on the lonely Ghat road lined with a beautiful blend of rhododendrons and oak forests, their bodies next to each other, dreamy and hopeful.

“We are almost there?” Rishi said pointing at a milestone.

“But where?” Sonali lazily inquired, her eyes closed and ears not exactly caring for a response.  

Soon they left the milestone behind them. They decided to take a sojourn near a small deserted chalet.  There was an eerie beauty about this place. The only sound they could hear was that of gurgling of a slender stream almost touching the chalet.  In no time, the wearied riders were sitting next to the stream their legs dipped in the chilly blue water and their hands clasped together. And the sight of the mountains in front of them filled the two friends with a feeling of pleasure never experienced before. And then, there was not even an inch of hesitation between them. There was a new sense of willingness in the air marked by an absolute lack of resistance.

Rishi, pointing to the heights ahead of them, murmured “Let’s climb up!”

And they started climbing. As they were ascending, Rishi could observe some discomfort in Sonali. It was tough for Rishi to combat her resistance to his offer of stopping the climb.

He pleaded “Sonali, let’s stop. It’s okay. We can do this some other time”

Without any warning, she crashed down and slipped down.  When her eyes opened, at the reinforcement of consciousness she found Rishi’s face hanging down on hers and his tears dropping on her faded fair face.

The helpless silence which reigned around them was overawing.

Rishi gathered courage and asked, “Come on, will you tell me what’s wrong with you?”

Wearing a spirited smile she muttered inaudibly “Rishi, I think am dying. Will you be my husband in my next life? I hope you’re not this shy then”

Rishi cried out “Yes, Yes, Yes…. What a fool you are. We can get married now if you want”

And then Sonali burst out laughing, unable to control the masked mischief.  The laughter was very infectious and Rishi could not escape it either. He also joined her and they laughed; they laughed like insane. He had not laughed this way for a long while now.

“I’ve altitude sickness. I think I’d enough of this climbing” Sonali confessed.

 “What about Jaipur then?” Rishi whispered into her ears and kissed her for the first time in life.

 “Let’s go!” replied Sonali, still laughing and her ears moistened with pearly drops of tears.

In the space of a few moments, the Bullet was descending the meandering mountain roads. After an hour or so, the air had turned warmer and it was much easier to breathe. A green signboard hanging on top of the road read:

“Dehradun 60 km
 Jaipur 600 km”

***

Setu, January 2020

The lost child

Debasis Tripathy

Fiction by Debasis Tripathy

One fine day, a young boy was found outside the panchayat office in Baidipada village. He would have been around five or six. The village sarpanch, a kind man in his fifties developed a liking for the boy and took care of his food and other needs, while allowing him to sleep in the only room of the office, during the night.  

The child did not remember anything much from the past except that he had been stolen by a guniya few months back and had been wandering ever since he escaped from his cruel custody.

Four weeks passed and yet no one came to claim the boy. There was a farmer couple who were childless. The sarpanch called the old farmer to the office and suggested to him “Chakara, you two have no one the world and it seems to me that God has sent this child for you. Why don't you bring him up as your son? He will take care of you when he grows up."

Chakara was undecided. They had got used to life without a child of their own. He said “We are poor people. We rarely get two meals a day. How can we take care of a third person?”

The sarpanch replied “I urge you to go and speak to Lakhi about this boy. There is no hurry. As such, he has a home in panchayat office.”

Chakara and Lakhi, his wife sat up very late that night, not knowing what to do.  Finally Lakhi said “If we wait to have our own child, we will die childless. But now if we take a plunge into parenthood, there will be someone to lit fire to our bodies when we die”

The decision was made. The next day the boy entered their house as their own and was given a new name – Bimbadhara, Bimba in short. They both loved and cared for Bimba, enwrapping him in a closeness which you will associate with grandparental love, pampering him as much they could. They were unwilling to let him be out of their sight.

Bimba was sent to the village primary school, where impressed with his learning curve he was given a double promotion to class 3 after just a year. Two summers passed and he was in class 5.  That summer a Jatra party came visiting and set up their tent just outside the village. After staying awake one night and watching a play, Bimba was utterly captivated by the performances. Not finding their son in the house, one day, and after Chakara had made a lasting search for him, he found him among the Jatra actors, who were enjoying their beedis, outside the village temple.

Chakara slapped him for the first time ever and dragged him back to their hut. Lakhi rebuked the young boy threatening to beat him to death with the broom that she grasped tightly in her hand. It was quite a scene that followed for the next couple of hours before the sad sun drowned and the family went to sleep after a meager dinner.

Two days later, just as they were waking up to a new day, Chakara and his wife found that their son was not in the house. They looked for him in the fields, near the river, in the panchayat office and the rest of the village. Not encountering him anywhere, Chakara ran to the outskirts of the village where the Jatra was camped shouted at the top of his voice, “Bimba…”

But there were no tents, no Jatra performers. What remained were ashes from the makeshift hearth and the wheel marks of the truck that had carried away the troupe to some unknown address.

Chakara started running to each door, each house in the village calling endlessly “Bimba, Bimba re Bimba, hey Bimba”. There was no reply. 

He was not willing to accept that his son, the gift of god could vanish like this. Illiterate and not knowing how to read the writings of fate, he decided to seek the help of the person who had passed on the child to him. He rushed to the sarpanch who was equally lost and clueless as him. Chakara felt more helpless than anyone else. 

He sprinted along, his wife chasing him, like a madman until cockcrow, when the broken night had lost hope of finding his son. Even the light of the day could not discover the lost child. Together with his wife, seated on the clay steps of their home, they sobbed until the night appeared again.

They did not find their son. Each day, thereafter, seemed like a year and they both aged posthaste in their deathlike dejection.

Someone told them that the Jatra party was in Bhubaneswar, where the owner of the troupe was based out of. They made a distress sale of their land and their house and set out to the town in a quest for their son.

They inquired about the troupe and with the police and other authorities and at the hospital in the town but seemed their boy had been lost to them forever and no one had any clue about him or the troupe. After a long spell of hopelessness, when a little hope sneaks in and that is lost, it induces a kind of hopelessness which has no cure. Finally, you yield in. The parents wept in silence, having lost all hope.

The town was an expensive affair for the poor villagers and they had no heart to return back to their village, where anyhow they had nothing left. Ahead of time, all their money came to an end. To ward off their hunger, the occurrences of which had turned rare, they did menial work was offered to them. In days, they became so discouraged and depleted that people mistook them as beggars and got something to eat without actually having to beg.

In this miserable state, they reached a temple, near the hill in the suburbs. The temple was small and not very popular with the worshippers who were spoilt with many choices within the convenience of the town’s boundaries. This place became their new home, albeit a roof and walls.

Monsoon came, it started raining heavily. The temple priest who by now had come to know the hapless story of the couple gave them shelter in a tin house adjoining the temple. They spent their days in the temple premises, gazing at the very few people entering and leaving - their eyes still searching for that one familiar face.

On few occasion Lakhi would shout out “Wait, Bimba, stop”, only to realize a little later that it was again a case of mistaken identity.

Chakara would scold her "O sterile woman, stop these histrionics. Allow me some peace"

Eleven monsoons later, the couple had not entered the temple once. By now they knew that that god is one which creates illusions of false hope in human minds. No matter how much ever faith you put in god, he will always do what he feels like. He derives pleasure out of human disappointments.

The old couple had got used to their new life – near the god, yet so far. They liked the silence surrounding the place. They didn’t wish to break the silence and rarely spoke to each other.

One unusual day, there was a lot of activity, a stir of people around the temple. No one asked the priest, but he spoke unsolicited "In a couple of days, we'll celebrate Megha Mela and this year they are arranging a Jatra completion here in the open ground, behind our temple”

The mention of the festival brought back a swarm of memories to Lakhi’s mind.

The next day, a group of people came visiting the temple to seek blessings of Maa Chanddi, the reigning deity. They were the Jatra actors.

As they were leaving Lakhi felt she had sighted Bimba.

She exclaimed “Haiyo, Did you not see Bimba? I am sure it’s him!”

Chakara stayed unaffected. He had heard his wife say this many times before. But this time her reaction was way more hysterical and besides she had not said anything like this in the last few years. She had accepted and got used to the loss.

Not getting any acknowledgment from her husband, she went to the priest. The priest, not in a mood to disappoint the poor woman said “The Jatra owner has invited us to today’s show. Let’s go and check for ourselves”

The priest ordered Chakara to join them and the three of them were welcomed by the owner and allotted the front seat with the best view.

The play started after some singing and dancing to pre-recorded music. There were constant and loud cheers. But the loudest cheer was yet to be herd. Then entered the lead female character and the crowd went berserk.

The girl on the stage looked so beautiful. Yet she reminded her of Bimba, a farmer’s rustic son. Lakhi uneasily and headstrongly tried to rewind her frail memory.

She finally gathered courage and whispered to Chakara “Did you see him? I am sure. If our Bimba grows up it will be like him … but this is a woman!”

Chakra looked again on to the stage. She did look like Bimba. Lakhi was right.

The old couple was so affected that they could not speak for the next few minutes. Lakhi looked intensely at the pretty woman ruling the stage.

“There he is, my son Bimba” suddenly shouted Lakhi in frenzy. With her blurred vision and with a showery screen of colored paper bits, the mother could still spot her son. 

“You mean the heroine?” queried the priest.

“Yes, yes. I am sure that’s my Bimba” retorted Lakhi, with a conviction like never seen before.

“Ok, ok, we will find out” the priest added, happy for her and confused himself.

The play seemed to last for an eternity, but it had to end. The three of them were backstage even before the play finished.

After some wait, they got a chance to meet the actors.  All of them had washed their faces and appeared more believable without makeup. All of them were male!

The old woman, who was shuddering in anticipation blurted:

“Bimba!”

One young man paused and looked back at her with an expression that oozed familiarity. She raised her voice, now more sure of herself “Bimba!”

The others around them looked at them, bewildered. An actor in the group tried to correct Lakhi “This is Radha Rani”

Radha Rani, the man with his face close to Chakara and Lakhi, and as a memory of his childhood flashed on him said “Bapa, Bou”

He had forgotten many things from his past but there was no way he could forget his Bapa and Bou.  He continued while sobbing “I’d come back but you’d left the village by then”

He knelt down to the floor, on the old man’s knees, and he wept, then holding both his father and mother, completing the triangle, in a shock of excessive elation.

***

Legend

Sarpanch - the head of a village in India

Guniya – an occultist who claims to be a believer of Kali, the dark Indian goddess and in the existence of the secret, mysterious, or supernatural agencies.

Jatra (also Mancha, opera) - is a style of moving theatre performance in the Indian state of Odisha, performing play, music, and dance. The troupe travels to villages and places. When this story is set, often the female roles were portrayed by male actors who were the main crowd-pullers.

Beedi - is a thin cigarette filled with tobacco flake and commonly wrapped in a dried leaf

Magha Mela – A festival celebrated in Odisha during the Indian month of Magha (roughly in January) for around ten days, when the Jatra party kicks off as a part of the fair and festival.

Haiyo – An old form of addressing husband by the wife in Odisha, where the wives are not supposed to take their husband’s name.

Bapa – father in Odiya

Bou – mother in Odiya

~~~~~~~~~~~ THE END ~~~~~~~~~~~

Setu, March 2019

The snake boy

Debasis Tripathy

Fiction by Debasis Tripathy

I’ve known many eccentric people in my life but as far as I can think, one person really stands out amongst this tribe. This guy had quite an unlikely name for an Indian boy or for that matter for any boy in this world. Well, let rather me focus on his story.

This is how the story began, as I recall and it’s still very vivid in my otherwise failing memory. I first met Epsilon, as I first entered my hostel room, clad in the skimpiest of underwear and smoking (I figured out later that it was hashish). The scene that welcomed me to hostel life was shocking, without overstating. I was a fresher and this was my first day in the college – a single child straight out from a family of over-protective parents.

“Hi, I am Partha. I will share this room with you” I said with a smile that I’d to force out from my gut.

“That’s your bed” was the response from the guy who’d be my room partner. Both of us didn’t care to look up – he out of indifference and I out of fear of ragging. Anxiety coupled with fatigue finally had better of me and before I knew I was soundly sleeping on my cot, which was the hardest surface I’d ever laid myself on. It must have been around 3 AM that I woke up, abruptly because of a bad dream that seemed more real than the surroundings. It was dark except a table lamp in the other corner of the room. There sat meditating on a wooden chair my room partner, clad only in a brief and with a Rudraksha Mala around his neck. He looked like Shiva, the immortal god of emancipation. The smoke of the incense sticks added to the mystery. When I woke up abruptly, he opened his eyes. The faint light that escaped from the background made a halo around his head. It was a spectral sight. “Good morning. Epsilon is my name. You can call me the same. No need to add Bhai or anything” were the words that introduced him to me.

“Epsilon is an unusual name,” I said.

He took some time and explained. He was named Epsilon by his father, who was a great mathematician and from whatever I heard from him, the father was also quite a quite a bizarre person, but after having seen a little of him and this world (where bizarreness is not that rare) I can say with some confidence that Epsilon had superior eccentric genes than his father.

In the next few weeks I found out that Epsilon had failed the exam twice and would continue with me in the class of freshers, but he was pretty cool about it. He told me that since he’d not been promoted he has a right to be treated as a batch mate. By the way he acted so easygoing and carefree, you wouldn’t have guessed that he was too perturbed about staying in the same class for three years. He didn’t seem to put any effort into studying. By studying I mean studying for exams, though he’d read quite a lot on anything beyond the syllabus – mythologies, magic, mathematics, occults and spirits, biographies, universe and what not.

In two months, we were great friends because of varying reasons – I never really had a friend till then and he because, well, he found me a rare good person. He’d share many stories with me – some seemed true, some invented and some a mix of the two but unfailingly they were captivating. I started enjoying them as a teenager who was curious to know more about sex.

One day as we lay in our respective beds in the same room, finding him very engrossed and silent, I asked him casually to start a conversation “What are you reading Guru?”

After an appropriate time, which had become a trademark with him, he said “It’s a book on past life regression, my pet subject.”

“Do you believe in rebirths” he popped out a question. I was not sure if I was, neither did I have any reason not to believe in the concept. I was agnostic. I kept silent.

“I was a snake in my former life” he commented, as if it was the most casual and natural thing in this world like the sun rises every day.

“Oh is it? I could sense it!” I snapped back.

“Don’t be an ass. I know you’re making fun of me” he protested “Well honestly, I don’t have any particular opinion on the subject.”

“I know. I responded because you asked about it.”

“How are you so convinced? Can you see the things from your past now, in your current human birth.”

“As vividly as I can see you” Epsilon said “But let’s not talk any more about it.

You got a girl in your life?” He changed the tracks effortlessly to a territory which I was as less familiar with as the former one.

“Not exactly”

“Good” he acknowledged with such satisfaction that for a moment I thought he was a gay but I promptly rejected the idea as he’d never even hinted at such an inclination, but to test him more I asked “And you?”

He came back with a description of his girlfriend “There is this girl who has been after me since she was born in this world. She is two years younger to me. At one point in time, I was really close to her but she was too overbearing and demanding, so things didn’t work out that well. I lost interest in her. I doubt if a guy like me could ever satisfy her. We are not meant for each other.”

“Very close as in you slept with her?”

“Oh yeah, quite a few times. She never seemed to have enough. I got drained.” “Did I offend you by asking such a personal thing?”

“No, absolutely fine with me.”

“One more question - are you guys still in touch?”

“Well can you believe it - She is in our class, for that matter, your class. I am anyway two years behind, hence with you. I’m pretty sure she has taken admission in our college just to be near me!”

“Oh! Who’s the unlucky one?”

“I think you know her. Let’s talk about it later” he cut short “Why later?” I risked asking this question because my curiosity had turned too headstrong to be subsided.

“Not that I don’t want to share but not now” and it ended there, at least for then. Pretty near a month later, as I entered my room which was, ritually and by common consensus, never locked from inside, I noticed a girl. She was crying. I instantly recognized her even though she looked very different than the last time I saw her, much more charming. She was in the same class as me, though we’d never spoken.

“Come on in, Partha” shouted my friend, as I hesitated and was about to go out.

“Meet Bhavya” he said, as she was hurriedly wiping her tears.

“It’s OK.”

“No, I insist” he commanded.

“I remember I told you about her” Epsilon started after I was seated “I know Bhavya … hmm … since I was born.”

“Hi Bhavya” said I, a little clumsily as a guy does who never had a girlfriend in his life.

“Hi” she said in a quivering voice.

“Well I gotta leave now. The ladies hostel closes at 7” she said and left. No one stopped her or said a bye.

I turned my eyes towards Epsilon who had no remorse on his face. He wasn’t conventionally good looking, but you’d still find him attractive. He had a pointed nose and long ears. He had soft dreamy eyes which could pierce through you, there was something magnetic about his persona. He was slender and with unruly hair he looked like a young Einstein. He was very sensitive but took great care to hide this aspect from others. I watched him quietly. None of us spoke. I could feel his quiet yet disrupted presence. I could hear his breath as I lay down with my eyes closed. I decided to let time heal him.

“Hey, Epsilon, did you misbehave with your girlfriend?” I questioned him the next day.

“Not really.”

“Then why was she crying?”

“Well, she is worried about me. She wants me to focus on my studies, to set my life right.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I have no interest in studies. No interest in this life. I have no motivation. I’ve lost interest in her.”

“Bhavya appears to be a great girl. I hope you won’t regret later.”

“I don’t deny it but I can’t help it. She’s a nice girl, but not my girl for sure. Do you have the patience to hear what I feel?”

“Yes, anytime.”

“I want to share this with you because I know you’re a good guy,” Epsilon started.

“She and I have spent almost our whole lives together so far in this birth as well.

She is two years younger to me and I sense ever since she gathered senses, she has thought of herself as my partner. Everyone started expecting us to be a natural couple. Almost everybody approves us of our relationship – our parents, our neighborhood, the current universe, space and time... But I know it’s not what it appears. I got this special gift of knowing my past life”

“Now, don’t tell me you can also see who Bhavya was in her last birth?”

“Yes, clear as the sky. I know Bhavya since our last birth when she was also a snake. Like this birth, she was after me in our former birth as well and she managed to swerve from my promised path of chastity. I remember very clearly the strong special scent that she was oozing which trapped me. I caught her scent and in no time we were entwined to each other to become one. It was very intense and lasted for long till I was sapped to the last drop of my energy.”

“You mean you’d sex with her, right?”

“Well sort of – sex without any love! In reality, it was a trap. Do you know some of the female snakes are bodily overwhelming than the males? She lured me into sex to enervate me”

“And then?”

“Sexual cannibalism is the word. She swallowed me in one piece. As I entered into her through her jaw I realized my mistake. By then, it was very late.”

“What!”

“Yes” he said emphatically.

I remained silent. I thought it over but couldn’t reach any conclusion. My mind was plagued with snaky thoughts - they were crawling all over.

I spent the entire night tossing and turning in the bed. I never really had to wake up, so for the first time since joining the college I was in the classroom well ahead of time. I spotted Bhavya there and walked up to her.

“Bhavya, I wanted to discuss something to you” I said to her.

“Sure.”

“It’s about Epsilon. Wanted to take your advice as you know him much better than me.”

“I wish!” she said “I am happy that in you he finally has a friend who understand him better than me.”

“Well, I don’t know about that but he does share things with me. Yesterday, he told me a story. Really weird one that is.”

“Is it about his past life where he was a snake?”

I nodded. She kept silent then resumed “Why doesn’t he just do normal things? Study. Focus on the present.”

“I know.”

“You know what, when he told me the story, which seemed more of an excuse to me, I suggested him to concentrate on studies. He told me to mind my own affair and that studying is a waste of time.” She deliberated and went on, “While he was in school he was always at the top of his class, in everything. However once he reached intermediate school his interest had waned, in everything. He was a bit of a genius and I thought it is okay for him to do crazy things. But now when I meet him…”

“Yeah, I am also at my wit’s end” I sort of seconded her.

“I admire Epsilon” she continued. “He’s got a side to him which the world doesn’t know. But now it’s becoming impossible for me to get along with him and his freaky thoughts. I don’t understand him anymore, I really don’t. When he started sharing his insane stories I thought it was a joke, but it evidently isn’t. He’s dead serious.”

“Yes, very insane I also feel. What about visiting a psychiatrist?” I posed a solution.

Bhavya didn’t say anything. I took her silence as a helpless consent. Back in the hostel, Epsilon had gone totally mute. He had not stepped out of the room for two days now. He seemed to be getting worse by the day. I took it as my duty to help him. Pondering over how to deal with it and choosing the proper words, I finally decided to take him head on.

“Epsilon if you don’t mind can I suggest you something?” I said.

“Yes, sure.”

“What about consulting a psychiatrist?”

Epsilon took some time to answer, as he normally did. “You know something?” he said finally clasping his hands “I’ve been seeing a shrink since the end of high school. My parents took me to one. But I’ve to tell you going to a therapist hasn’t helped. I know I am not deranged. I know you don’t agree with me but I don’t blame you. The shrinks just act smart and listen well in return for the hefty fees you pay to them. My people tell me that almost everything I do is weird, but I know I am perfectly fine. Hmm… well maybe not.”

“Are you still on with a psychiatrist?”

“Well, someone better. I am seeing a past-life regression therapist and this time on it is working. He understands my wounds and they lead to my former life.” I shook my head. “Well, there are some things about you that are definitely not normal,” I said.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re looking at your past life for a solution to a problem in this birth. Focus on the present man. It’s the gift you’ve in your hand” “You could be right,” Epsilon seemed to admit, but he changed his mind after a pause of few seconds and said “You seem to be a little too wise for your age. To be honest, I don’t like being one of this race called Homo sapiens. We are a weird species. All of us are obsessed with being too normal. I thought you’d understand me but you are also part of the herd. Being a snake was better.” There was nothing much I could think in my defense and there I stood in front of him – part offended and part sorry. Finally, may be in a fit of my anger that hurt my ego, I said “To tell the truth, I don’t really understand you and your weird dreams. I can’t be you neither can I get into your dreams. I was just trying to help you.”

Epsilon remained silent. The silence sustained for about a week more. I decided to change my room, in fact I managed to get into another hostel leaving my eccentric friend to his own devices.

Two weeks later, I heard Epsilon had left the college. He just vanished without informing anyone, not that there was anyone with whom he was in touch except me. I asked Bhavya about his whereabouts, but she was clueless. We contacted his parents but all they could do was search for him. He was nowhere to be found. Being cut off so completely for me was difficult but as humans normally do I adapted to the change, somehow. Somehow I fitted back to the narrow human definition of normalcy.

***

Three years later, on the final day of my college, I spotted a snake. It was very different from the snakes I’d seen earlier – real and pictures. My instincts told me the snake was poisonous yet it wore a calm demeanor, meant no harm. Shiny indigo in colour, the snake had soft dreamy eyes with a pointed nose but no visible ears. It stopped, raised its head slightly, and stared at me, as if it knew me.

~~~~~~~~~~~ THE END ~~~~~~~~~~~

Setu, July 2018

Debasis Tripathy

A little unlikely for an impatient person, Debasis Tripathy is passionate about words, rhythm and rhyming. He started writing seriously a little late but since then within a short span, he already has had his poetry and fiction featured with some reputed literary journals.

His heart wants to travel places but to make a living he resides in Bangalore, where he is a married man with a clever son who asks difficult questions.

Email: d_basis@yahoo.com

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