5. b

“But how will we test him?” We take a smoke break riding down the Expressway Bypass to the main city. It’s the best way we can entertain ourselves on weekends. Going to the city and walking aimlessly on its roads and through its lanes and by-lanes. A tea or a coffee somewhere and preferably dinner too. Then return to the room late at night. City is our only source of entertainment. It is our only hope to survival which stands against the exasperation of the life in the arsehole of the world. And everytime we visit the city, we secretly desire of finding a place there and settling down in one of its plush by-lanes at the end of the course. As a retribution for the days spent in the aspirant suburb of the city.

And the ride to the city is a pleasant one. A bypass to the Expressway. Then Expressway to the next bypass. And again a bypass to the city. There is another route too. The old highway which stood as the only mean of connection between the two cities, till the advent of the Expressway. But the road is grimily occupied by buildings and shops on both the sides.

I take a long puff.

“Tell me man…..” Piyush lights up his cigarette.
“What?”
“How will we test him?”

I rest my butt on the tank of the standing motorbike. Take another deep drag of smoke into me. Piyush stands before me like a priest before an oracle awaiting the answer. And I answer.

“I have an idea…”
“What?”
“Declaration…”
“What declaration?”
“Declare like him….”
“Like him…?”
“Yeah….Tell everybody that you like Shamita…especially him!”
“But…”
“Do as I say….tomorrow we call Harshad for an overnight…and then….you declare…”
“You mean….tell him?” He said finding a way out of his confusion.
“Yeah….tell him that you love Shamita!....”
“And…” I could clearly see a question mark on his face. Further clarification was required.

“And then ask him if he would sacrifice…”
“Directly??”
“Yes...”
“Will that help?”
“What help you want??”
“I mean will he accept?”
“If he does…you are at a benefit…If he doesn’t….The test fails!...Got it?”
“I think so…”
“Ready then?”
“I think so…”
“Make up your mind…” I turned my leg and sat on the motorbike and kick-started it. “Sit!”

I had set the stage. The action was about to begin. Action! That was what I expected. That was what I wanted. I didn’t pray for Harshad to back out. Because I was sure he won’t.

After a kilometre or two of riding I felt a pat on my back.

“What??” I shouted to take my voice over the wind to him.

“You mean….” He shouted into my ear in return “……Do what he did??”

I felt like stopping the vehicle and hugging him for discovering the meaning of my statement. But I sidelined the temptation and kept on riding. Chutiya saalaa!

“Yessss” I replied loudly. The voice echoed through the hills along the road.


(Contd.)