‘So what should we do?’
‘I should join the army,’ I said again.
‘No!’ squealed Maa.
‘So we should sit around and do nothing while these fundamentalists destroy our country? You can’t give one son for the country,’ scoffed Baba.
Give? I wasn’t his to give away like a paper cup or a torn blanket. Why should I be given away? But in those short moments I imagined joining a fast-track enlistment, a rapid-fire training, a quick cargo flight to the front lines, an oversized helmet on my head, an AK-47 assault rifle in my hands, and me charging into enemy barracks, shooting indiscriminately, and getting shot at twenty times before I drop dead with the name of the country and the girl I love. India. Brahmi. That should teach Brahmi a lesson. To ignore such a goddam war hero for Sahil Ahuja!
‘Even if I had a hundred sons I wouldn’t give up one,’ said Maa.
‘And look what happened to the hundred sons of Gandhari. You’re as blind as she is!’
‘Ish. Chup koro to, keep quiet. Nothing will happen to my sons,’ said Maa and kissed us both, pushing our faces into her bosom.
‘It’s all you Bengali mothers’ fault. Coddle your boys so much they turn into meek women!’ ridiculed Baba.
‘Ei Raghu, come to your room,’ she commanded. She led me to the room and locked the door behind us. Baba shouted like a madman at the door, ‘Go now and sleep soundly! Don’t regret it when Musharraf sweeps like a tide over our country, burns our temples, loots us and bathes our holy land with Hindu blood. Raghu? Are you listening?’
‘Go, sleep,’ Maa shouted.
Baba continued to shout. ‘Ask your Maa to tell you how Mahmud Ghazni raided our beloved Somnath temple. Raghu, are you listening? He raided and killed thousands of us, broke away pieces of the lingam we worship and embedded them in the steps of his mosque. Anirban, tell them!’
I heard Dada say, ‘I have to go to Bangalore tonight.’
Baba, with his exalted talks of sending me to the border to die, immediately softened and asked Dada if everything was okay. ‘This private sector will work you to death. It’s not too late. You will get another job,’ Baba said.
We all went to drop Dada at the airport.
Maa–Baba were worried about Dada losing hair and weight alarmingly under the strain of the job. It was only I who knew of Dada’s shocking betrayal.
I knew he was going to fight for Zubeida.
‘What are you going to do?’ I asked him.
‘I will get her home,’ he said.
The days of peace in our house are now numbered.
P.S. I didn’t spot any new buildings. All I am thinking of is the high diving board and an empty swimming pool.
28 May 1999
I was set for my suicide mission. Not like a real suicide mission but metaphorically. You can’t tell with me so I thought I will clear that out. Sahil Ahuja and Brahmi were fiddling with the new pendulum set when I walked into the physics lab. They stood up straight like thieves caught red-handed.
‘Finally. Where were you all these days?’ asked Brahmi.
‘Sahil Ahuja,’ said Sahil and shook my hand. His fledging beard looked even more bushy and rather warrior-like up close. I wanted to strap him to a chair and pluck the hairs out one by one.
‘Something came up. I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Do you want to join us in the experiment?’ asked Sahil.
‘I came yesterday though and finished the pendulum experiment. It was a tricky one but I have the observations with me if you want to cross-check,’ I said and handed over the diary to them.
Neatly tucked in between the pages was the pretend-heartbreak-letter my pretend-ex-girlfriend had written to me. It was written on the backside of a picture of the two of us—get this—holding hands, smiling at the camera.
I continued nonchalantly, ‘I will go cut some frogs. Pendulums are boring.’
