‘Stop laughing!’ I mutter indignantly. He’s still snorting a little but his eyes are shining and he looks so happy that I cannot stop myself from smiling at him.
Something in his expression changes as he lifts his hand and pushes back a strand of my hair that has escaped my pony tail. I can actually feel my breath stop and I let it go when he moves his hand away.
‘I thought I’d never see you again,’ he whispers.
‘Fat chance!’ I say and he steps back a little surprised. We both start laughing as we start the long walk to his house.
Thirty-three
‘SO, HOW HAVE YOU been?’ I ask and immediately want to slap my forehead for asking such a mundane question.
‘Good. What about you?’ he asks. We’re walking along this tree-lined avenue and there are a couple of cars passing by us slowly. I think what I love most about the past is how little traffic there is. No sick fumes either. But then I’d be lying if that really was what I loved most about the past.
I shrug and then think of what I can tell him. ‘I’ve started college. It’s okay.’
‘Great!’ he says but I can’t figure out what he means.
‘So what happened when you got back to 1982?’ I ask him. That was the one thing I really want to know. He nods and sighs loudly.
‘I just got back and continued living my life,’ he says and I glance at him sideways, feeling a little wary.
‘So you reached 1982 safe and sound?’ I ask him again and he looks at me puzzled.
‘What do you mean?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know. One moment you were there and the next you’d disappeared,’ I recall the horror I’d felt at the moment he’d gone back. ‘How did that happen?’
‘I don’t know. The old man is still trying to understand what happened. See, he says he’s fixed the camera but it’s a useless piece of junk if you ask me,’ Manoj says, anger evident in his voice.
‘Manoj!’ I reprimand him as we take a turn on the road. I have no idea if we’re going in the right direction but Manoj does, I’m sure.
‘What? He makes a camera which takes pictures in the present, and someone way off in the future finds them and comes back here. Then he tweaks it about a little and fixes it so that the person who came here can go back. What use is that to us? I can’t go to the future using it right?’ he sounds bitter and angry.
‘Why do you want to go to the future?’ I ask him and he looks at me as though I’m the dimwit in class who can never get any answer right. For me? I find that hard to believe for some reason.
‘No really?’ I persist. ‘Why aren’t you happy here, in your present?’
‘It’s not that I’m not happy Tamanna. But after opening an avenue such as time travel, it’s rather frustrating to not be able to use it. I have to wait for you to come and I honestly didn’t think you would come back.’
I don’t say anything as I try to process his words. ‘The picture I used last time. Why didn’t it work again? Is it like a single use ticket?’ I ask him.
‘See? I told you he made a useless piece of junk,’ Manoj says, waving his hands dismissively.
‘But I’m glad I didn’t. I mean, imagine coming back to the same sequence of events! And you wouldn’t have known who I was. It would have been like a replay,’ I tell him.
Manoj looks into the distance and finally nods. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’
‘So, have you taken any more pictures? Can you at least tell me where you’re going to keep them? You have no idea how much I’ve had to search for these pictures to turn up. I found this graduation picture in Ajji’s trunk under hundreds of other photos,’ I tell him.
Manoj’s brow creases a bit. ‘I picked up the camera just today because it was Suma’s graduation. I don’t know why I did it though.’
We walk in silence and then Manoj speaks up. ‘So you’re saying that if you find these pictures, you can come back to the past? I just have to take more pictures then.’
‘You know, I just realised that I land at the site where the picture is taken. So be careful where you take them,’ I tell him and he looks at me playfully.
‘I know just where to take them now,’ he says with an evil glint in his eye.
‘Where?’ I narrow my eyes at him.
‘I’ll take one in the zoo. Maybe I’ll try and get inside the monkey cages and take them. Then one in the smelliest toilet in college and then…’ he stops as I whack his arm.
‘Ow!’
‘Don’t you dare!’ I tell him but seeing his grin, I can’t help but grin back.
‘So this is how it’s going to be then? I take pictures and you find them and come here?’ he asks.
‘It seems that way. I will turn up right after you’ve taken the photo but the truth is that it took me months to find one. You’re the one who doesn’t really have to wait,’ I tell him.
At this he chuckles. ‘I still can’t believe you’re here!’ and I smile at him.
‘So, how long are you planning to stay here?’ he asks and I lose the smile. Shit! I never gave a thought to what Ajji will think when she sees me asleep in the girls’ old room.
‘I have to go back!’ I whisper looking at my watch at the time. Funnily enough it’s showing me the time in 1983.
‘Why?’ Manoj asks, his voice hardening a little.
‘See, the last time I was here, I was here for a week. That entire duration, my family had me admitted in the hospital because they thought I was in some coma. I can’t let them think that again!’ I tell him, urgency spiralling in my voice.
‘So why did you come then?’ he asks looking ahead.
I don’t want to answer him. I don’t want to tell him that I came back to be sure of my feelings for him and going by the zing I’d felt when he held my hands I certainly have a truckload of them.
‘I wanted to see if it had really happened,’ I say softly.
Manoj doesn’t say anything. He continues walking and I feel that same helpless anger that I’d felt the last time I was here, emanating from him.
‘So you want to go back?’ he asks finally.
‘I can’t meet Ajji and the girls. They’ll wonder how I came back from Australia,’ I say, knowing how lame I sound.
‘So you’re saying you just came back to see if this had really happened,’ Manoj repeats my words. Feeling a little uncertain, I nod. His expression falters a little and then narrowing his eyes, he says, ‘Fine. Go back then.’ He pulls out the camera from its case and I look at it shocked.
I can’t believe we went from grinning at each other and holding hands to this fight. The problem is that I want to stay. I don’t want to go back. At least not right away.
‘Ajji will get worried Manoj,’ I say, trying to make him understand.
‘Right. Go back then,’ he says again and lifts the camera.
‘Wait! If I go back, then I can’t come back here with this same picture!’ I tell him, feeling panicky. ‘What if I don’t find another picture? What if I never get to come here again?’
‘Tough luck,’ he says and before I can stop him, before I can ask him where I can find the next Polaroid, he clicks a picture.
I don’t want to leave like this, in the middle of a fight. There’s so much I want to tell him but I can’t. Or rather I shouldn’t. But I open my eyes in Ajji’s storeroom which has become eerily dark and I get up with a sigh, holding my head.
I can’t believe I went to the past and came back so soon. Considering how angry Manoj was, I doubt he’ll take another photo soon. And even if he does, where am I going to find it?
Thirty-four
AJJI IS SURPRISED TO see that I am still there. She’s sitting in the hall watching TV and she looks at the wall clock. It’s 7 pm. Time travels at the same rate when I’m in the past? It was around 6 when I found the photo. I must have been in 1983 for an hour.
‘You didn’t leave yet? What were you doing in there for so long?’ she asks me, putting the remote down on the sofa.
/> ‘I thought you went to take a nap?’ I ask her instead, deflecting the question.
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ she says and goes back to watching her programme.
I’m unsure of what to do because I know that although I should be headed back home, I’m reluctant.
‘Ajji, how come we have Polaroid pictures in the house?’ I ask her, hoping to get my nonchalant tone right.
‘Why? What’s so strange about that?’ she says, patting the sofa beside me. ‘Call your father and ask him to pick you up.’
‘No, it’s not a problem. I can go back home alone,’ I tell her, wishing she’d be more specific. ‘I found an old Polaroid picture of mom and Reena Aunty and Vidya Aunty with some other person.’
She looks at me interested as I make my way to the sofa to sit down beside her.
‘Some other person? Must have been Manoj,’ she says with a smile.
‘Who’s Manoj?’ I ask her, hoping that mom hasn’t told her that I’d asked her the same question too.
‘He used to be our neighbour back in the seventies and eighties,’ she says, her eyes having a faraway kind of look.
‘Used to be?’ I ask, unable to stop myself.
She nods and then looks at me with a smile. ‘He was such a lovely and bright boy. I wish …’
‘What?’ I ask her, knowing that mom has already told me what happened to Manoj. But maybe Ajji has some more clues.
‘I wish he hadn’t left. Things were never the same after he left,’ she says sadly.
‘Where did he go?’ I hope I’m not sounding too curious about someone I’ve never met.
Ajji shrugs. ‘I don’t know. One day he was here and the next day, he just disappeared.’
Huh? This isn’t what mom said!
‘Disappeared?’ I ask her, my heart beating madly again.
‘That’s what I mean. He left without a word, never wrote to any of us or even his grandfather. Never called. The poor man was heartbroken,’ she says, with a twist of her lips.
But mom said he went to Australia, I want to tell Ajji. How can mom say one thing and Ajji another?
‘What happened to his grandfather?’ I ask finally.
‘He clung on to the hope that Manoj would return one day,’ Ajji says. ‘But he died sometime in 1995 I think.’
I almost want to tell Ajji to stop talking and not tell me who dies when. I mean, if I ever go back to the past, what if I blurt it out to Mr Prakash accidentally?
‘And their house?’ I ask instead.
‘The house belonged to Manoj’s parents who had died long back. When Manoj went, his grandfather had to manage on his own and then when he died, I think someone from Manoj’s family sold the house. His house used to be right at the end of the road ma,’ Ajji says.
‘Used to be?’ I ask again, feeling a bit of an imbecile.
‘They tore down the house and built another one in its place,’ she says, her eyes having that curious look in them once again. ‘Why are you asking all these questions?’
I bite my lower lip, wondering what to tell her. Also, Ajji has made no mention of Tamanna or how he had fallen madly in love with her. Did that mean that mom was wrong?
‘Nothing. Just interested in all this old stuff,’ I tell her but I know that Ajji is too perceptive to have bought that explanation.
‘Are you sure?’ she asks me and I squirm under her gaze.
‘Of course! What else can it be?’ I ask her indignantly, getting up to go to the window. I’d spent a week in this house and it had turned out to be one of the most interesting weeks of my life. Outside the window there was a stream of traffic and a little further ahead was a mall with a bowling alley and a video game arcade. I can’t help but think about how peaceful this place was back in the 80s.
‘I’m just surprised at your sudden interest in the past,’ she says and I turn to look at her. She’s still sitting in her place but she looks very serious. For the barest of seconds, I wonder if I can confide in her and tell her what happened and then I brush aside that thought. No one will believe me.
‘What’s wrong Tamanna? You haven’t been the same since your fall,’ Ajji says softly and I look down because I’m sure Ajji will spot something in my eyes.
‘I don’t know Ajji,’ I mumble and then look at the time and start making noises that it’s really late and I leave the house in a flurry. Ajji is at the door watching me leave and I know that I haven’t convinced her. It’s only as I take the turn towards the bus stop that my heart lurches. There aren’t any more Polaroid pictures in Ajji’s house. So how will I ever go back?
Thirty-five
‘HOT GUY TO YOUR left. Totally checking you out,’ whispers Reshma and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
‘Huh?’ I manage and she rolls her eyes as though there’s no hope for me. ‘Who?’ I whisper back and she nudges me with her elbow so I turn slightly to see this ‘hot guy’.
The lecturer standing at the podium drones on about the French Revolution while I try not to make it obvious that I’m looking at a guy across the aisle. There are about twenty minutes more for the class to get over and everyone is feeling restless because it will be lunch time soon. There’s something about merely attending classes in college that makes you so hungry all the time!
So, this guy. The hot one is okay actually. Well, he is rather good looking to be honest but when our eyes connect for a few seconds, I feel nothing. Zilch. I doodle aimlessly on my notepad while Reshma continues ogling him and sighing alternately, annoying me. Reshma and I met on the first day of college and not knowing anyone in our class, we had started sitting together.
Reshma is totally into vampires and werewolves and her favourite movie is Twilight, so I can’t quite imagine how the two of us became buddies.
‘What happened?’ she whispers near my ear and I shut my eyes for a few seconds trying to quell my irritation. It’s actually not her fault that I’m being so bad tempered. Manoj and I fought in 1983 but that happened last week. So can you blame me for being a little antsy now and then?
‘Nothing. He’s not my type,’ I whisper back to her, aware that the lecturer was glancing at us every now and then. College lecturers were supposed to be cooler than school teachers but I haven’t seen any evidence of it so far. They all seem serious, bespectacled and their ability to tolerate nonsense is at an all-time low.
‘Why? Who’s your type then?’ she asks me. I don’t know. I don’t want to get into this stuff right now. Unlike Raina who is going to become a researcher in either Molecular Biology or Astrophysics (I think), I am as yet undecided about my career. But I want to have the chance to explore my choices when I can. When I’m not thinking about the 80s I mean. Or rather when I’m not thinking about Manoj.
I hate clichés and I’m quite scared that I’ve become one myself. A cliché that cannot escape itself. Aarggh.
‘I don’t have a type,’ I tell her and her shoulders slump.
‘Come on! Look around you! So many cute guys to choose from!’ she insists.
Huh? I look at the class avidly again but my eyes seem to prefer a sepia tint rather than Technicolor.
To my horror, the lecturer has decided that he has had enough whispering from the two of us and he’s walking towards us looking rather stern. Before I can sit up straight he’s near us and he pulls away my notebook and looks at it, holding it up close. I stand up awkwardly, aware that everyone is looking at me now. All the girls as well as the cute and the non-cute guys.
He throws my book back on the desk in disgust and asks me to get out.
‘Wha …? Why sir?’ I ask him indignantly wondering why I should get in trouble and not Reshma.
‘If you girls come to college so you can compose love letters instead of listening to what we teach, it’s better you do it outside the class,’ he says with a huff and turns away.
Love letters? What the hell is he talking about? I look at my notepad and feel the blood drain from my face. Like an idiot, I�
�ve drawn a heart and written Manoj’s name in it. Ugh!
I can see the smirks on the faces of many students as I collect my bag and leave the classroom feeling extremely foolish. It’s going to be lunch time soon. He could have let me stay in class, I think angrily as I head outside. Once outside the classroom, I turn around because the lecturer has his back to me and I shoot a dirty look at Reshma. She looks mildly stricken. For some reason my attention is drawn to the guy with whom I’d exchanged a glance and he’s waving at me with the barest motion of his hand and a grin on his face. I roll my eyes at him and walk away.
I’m undecided as to where I should go so I sit down on a nearby bench and pull out a novel to read. It’s supposed to be a gripping suspense novel but I’m unable to concentrate because I keep thinking of that silly heart I’ve drawn. The notepad is in my bag and I pull it out carefully as though it might bite.
Flipping open the page, I stare at the heart and Manoj’s name and then shut the notepad angrily. I’m an idiot. I jump when someone sits down next to me. It’s that guy from class. What’s he doing here?
‘Got kicked out of class too,’ he says by way of introduction. I decide to ignore him and I shove my notepad into the bag and get up.
‘And hello to you too,’ he mutters and I can’t help but smile a little.
‘Why? What did you do?’ I ask him and he shrugs.
‘I told him class was no fun without you.’
‘What?’ I ask, shocked and then realise that he’s joking.
‘So, Tamanna, who were you writing the love letter to?’ he asks me, folding his arms across his chest in a very casual move.
‘I don’t write love letters,’ I tell him flatly but sit down back on the bench. I don’t really see the point of making a grand exit when I don’t know where to go.
‘Oh, so he’s not only hard of hearing, but he’s short-sighted as well,’ he comments.
‘Who?’
‘The lecturer, Mr Ramesh, who else?’ he says, stretching his legs out.
‘Whatever,’ I say, as I pick up my novel and pretend to read it. Pretending because I’m no longer interested in the story and I don’t want to continue a conversation with him. But he refuses to take the hint.
No Time for Goodbyes Page 13
