“Hmmmm... but I still hate you. It may be easy for
you, but it hurts me Mannu.” Pia spoke and ended the call. No bye. No good
night. Mannu nodded helplessly in resentment and searched around for the
driver. He was nowhere to be seen. Mannu went down for a second cup of tea to
burn the cold feeling of being away from Pia.
If today we would have been near, nothing like this
would have ever happened. Never would I have asked for a gift and never would
it get lost. Mannu thought to himself, sipping tea, served this time in a kulladh.
Suddenly, he heard a noise. It resembled the ring
tone of his phone, but this was just an illusion.
All alone is all we are.
The bus was ready to move. Mannu was still sipping
with the tea.
Sometimes the pain of not having is crucial to make
you feel the real importance of what you really want. He relaxed and closed his
eyes with this last thought.
It was noon. The sun was straight above. Mannu was
on the way to the reception. The parcel receiving for students was done in
after noon. If the one whom you love more than your life goes away for hours or
even minutes, this life seems so insignificant. Mannu had bunked lectures, even
the chemistry lab. Just like you need wings to touch the clouds, Mannu needed
Pia's gift to come to life again. Everyone had the same question as they saw
him,
“Oye kahan tha subah se? Lab to aa jaya kar.
Hey, where were you since morning? Attend the lab atleast.”
Mannu
just nodded and moved ahead. As he crossed the canteen he saw theHead of
Department, walking towards to him. Mannu had missed lectures in a row and
today he was even absent in the lab. Today, excuses didn't pop up Mannu's head.
These HODs caught all the lies, but missed the truth. After finding nothing
suitable from the store house of excuses, he ran and hid in the toilet.
Protruding the lower part of his body forward he stood in front of the pot for
a while. Observing some movement outside, he
checked
out hiding his face with a handkerchief. HOD had passed. Mannu continued
his walk to the reception.
It was housed with plush sofas which were always
unoccupied and a centre table with a weeks’ old flowers in an elliptical vase.
The clock that hung diametrically opposite to the entrance gates showed 12:05
pm.
“Is there any courier for Mannu?” He questioned the
receptionist.
He was still looking at the computer screen and
handed him the register.
“Check the name.” Spoke the receptionist. His eyes
had still not seen Mannu. He searched the log for the past week. There was
merely anything for anyone except the director and the librarian.
“Have you made all the entries? I didn’t find the
one I was looking for.”
This time he looked up, took the register and threw
it back. Bang!
“I have other jobs to do. If you’re in a hurry, go
and collect it from the railway station. Else come tomorrow. And no need to
call every minute.” He concluded.
Mannu stared at him till he locked his gaze to the
PC monitor.
One strange thought that was occupying every inch
of Mannu's head was if he really gave incomplete address to Pia? It was the
third day after the gift had been dispatched from Mumbai and still there was no
sign of it.
He headed towards the mess as Kadhi chawal,
Kadhi rice, was served today. There was one golden habit of the hostel
kitchen.
“How are you brother?”
This was the question from everyone.
“Super perfect!” Mannu smiled and repeated.
He picked up the greasy, four block plate and
stuffed it with kadhi and slices of onion. There were seven rows of
benches, which were all filled in with students. Every other second voices of Bhaiya
roti... from any of the fresher was heard. Finding an empty seat Mannu
halted there, in a hurry to finish the food as soon as possible. It was in his
sixth approach to the mess worker when he finally gave the roti. And the
lunch was over in minutes. Next Mannu made a move, not to classes, not to the
lab, but to the local post office. It was the only chance left to clear out
whether or not he gave Pia the incomplete address.
Paying a mere amount of three rupees to the bus
conductor Mannu reached the Sai baba mandir. Opposite to it was a
grocery shop, which was also the post office. Really it was an unconventional
one. Posts and parcels lay in one corner and pulses in the other two corners.
At the counter was an electronic weighing machine as dirty as the hair of the
man who sat next to it. Trains of the pouches of mouth fresheners and tobacco
hung above his head. Mannu searched for his parcel from the outer end of the
counter. The shopkeeper finally spoke to him.
Even he didn’t have a solution to Mannu's anxiety.
After a short conversation and refusing to pay a bribe of twenty five rupees
for room delivery, Mannu had become sure that the parcels were
distributed to the colleges from this multi distribution store. But the one
thing that was multiplying its share of surety was the fact whether he really
gave Pia the incomplete address? A third day passed, but no one knew where the
parcel was. The sun was ready to go down when Mannu came back to the hostel
room. He bolted the doors, lay down flat to escape the emotion of separation.
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