What do you call the thing which keeps on coming back no matter how deep you bury? We will see…
“Hey Sandip, how are you buddy?” one of my schoolmates bumped into me in the local market.
I was trying to ignore him. Buried my head in the ground, gazing at the sky trying to do a weather forecast or looking at infinity but… none helped.
“Hi! I am good, how about you? Long time no sees.” I did not have any other options than to take it as a pleasant surprise.
“… You know we had a great time in the farewell party. You missed it bigtime. We …” he went on and on but my ears stopped listening to.
“… then Shrestha told me that she will be moving to Kolkata with her mom …” that brought me back to the conversation.
“And… what about her dad?” I asked
“He is staying here, I thought you might be knowing.” His lips stretched a bit towards the right.
The best part of chatterboxes is that they don’t stick to one topic but the worst part, they don’t know when to stop. After giving several reminders of me getting late every 15 min, I was spared after the 5th try.
I don’t know why, but now I want to find Shrestha. I want to know where is she, how is she doing etc. The real question is “How?”
“Let’s start with her dad”, wonderful idea!
That’s a such a stupid idea. The reason her dad is still in this city, just to handover his daughter’s address and say “Go son! Date my daughter.” Is that what are you thinking?
I had a plan. I went on to meet Shrestha’s father on a Sunday. Reached his residence at 11 O’ Clock in the morning. A polite knock and a long wait of 20 seconds, when you can hear every beat of your heart.
“What?” A lady opened the door and also stole my question.
“I am looking for Mr. A. K. Sinha” replied to her disgusted looking “What” that she had just served without any salt in it.
“He does not stay here now, we moved in last week only.” She replied with the same unhappy face.
“Do you know his new address?” I asked politely
“No. But you can ask Mr. Rakshit, next block, 2nd floor.” I don’t know which one came first, the THUDD sound as she closed the door on my face or her words.
I hurried to meet Mr. Rakshit. A nameplate was hanging at the entrance door “P. K. Rakshit”.
“Yes, how may I help you?” A man opened the door with a smile and I thought no one is happy in this world.
“I am looking for Mr. Rakshit”, I replied
“Go on. I have all ears”, he replied with a smile confirming that I found the right person.
“Sir, I am actually looking for Mr. A. K. Sinha but he moved on to a new address. Someone told me that you can help me with his new address”, I was prepared.
“Why are you looking for him?” he was curious.
“Our school is forming an alumni association and we are given the task to collect some required information of the last year students as a part of the activity.” I showed the questionnaire that I had prepared.
“It carries 20 marks, sir. I got information of 2 students from the same batch.” I had prepared some filled in forms and handed over to him.
“I don’t know the quarter number of Sinha but it is very easy to find. From the rotary, take right and you will see a block, the corner flat on the right is the house you are looking for.”, he looked convinced with my homework.
I thanked him and moved on to find Mr. Sinha. I was delighted and tapped my back several times. In all those dramas I forgot that I was not born lucky.
(To be continued…)