by Om Swami
Andrei Kulikov, knitting it is. One day, I’ll watch you struggle helplessly to break free from my net. I’ll weave it specially for you. Like a tiny insect you will flutter and squirm in my web before resigning yourself to your sorry fate.
Back in the hotel room when I analysed my moves, I saw that my own game had not been bad at all. I had a real chance against Kulikov had I a bit more time to calculate the last few moves. Had I not lost twenty minutes on that one move, I could have given him a tough fight. I might even have drawn. Or at least it felt that way.
Seeing how close I was, thinking about where I could have been, I felt increasingly angry. I was out of the tournament at the first knockout stage. But I was more sorry than angry. Sorry because I was knocked out. It could have been avoided. Every time the round ended, I returned to my corner only to find there was no one to pull my mouth guard out, give me a sip of water, wipe my sweat, or to whisper something, anything, in my ear. Anything. Anything at all. He should have been there. My master. He just wasn’t there.
What was the pressing urgency for Master to leave for his village? Who had died anyway? He could have at least called home to find out how was I doing in the tournaments. But, no, why would the Great Master dismount his high horse for a loser like me? What kind of a master was he, who always left me to fend for myself in major tournaments?
I stayed back in my room on the seventh day rather than watch Kulikov turn his opponents to pulp. I didn’t feel like going to the venue in the same set of clothes. I had nearly made up my mind to buy new clothes. But thanks to the helpful Punjabi- speaking officer, my luggage was traced after all. It had been at the airport all this while. What my tiny suitcase was doing in the oversized baggage section was something no one could explain. At any rate, I was relieved to get it back.
I ordered room service because at least the hotel staff spoke English. Feeling bored, and to distract myself from the constant onslaught of angry thoughts about my absentee master, I turned on the television. But there wasn’t much to watch as it was all in Spanish. Nevertheless, I paused at a music channel. Skinny girls were bouncing around in skimpy clothes. It was a decent distraction – until the face of Master flashed in front of me again. He just hadn’t bothered to call. Not at all.
Just then, the phone rang.
I swear, he’s had it now.
‘Hello?’ I said, irritated.
‘Did you miss me?’
‘Oh, Rea? So, uh I was just rushing out. I—’
I was in no mood for sympathy, even if it came from Rea.
‘You never called.’
‘I’d called you the day I landed! It’s just been very hectic.’
Sensing my anger, she spoke pensively, ‘You lost, didn’t you?’
‘You think I’m just a loser who can never win, don’t you?’
‘I was just—’
There was a knock on the door. My pizza had arrived.
‘Someone’s at the door, Rea. Hold.’
A waiter walked in and placed the tray on the table.
‘Enjoy your pizza,’ he said while walking out.
‘Yes, Rea,’ I resumed.
‘Didn’t you say you were rushing out?’
‘Uh … I was.’
‘But I heard someone say, “enjoy your pizza”.’
This was followed by an awkward pause.
‘You didn’t have to lie to me, Vasu,’ she said. ‘I waited for your call every day.’
‘Did I ask you to wait?’
I’d never envisaged shouting at Rea, but I don’t know what got into me. ‘Did I promise to call you every day? And even if I did, it’s not like people don’t break their promises. Ask my master if you like.’
‘Why are you shouting at me?’
‘I’m not shouting,’ I screamed. ‘Just leave me alone, will you?’
‘Vasu…’ Rea was crying. And she put the phone down.
I hit the receiver on my forehead. Twice, thrice, and again. It hurt. I felt my skin stretch. I touched it and it was a bit bumpy. I spent the next twenty minutes calling her back. She didn’t come to the phone. Her father answered every time and I would just disconnect. I would have kept calling all night, but each one was an international call and even a ‘hello’ was more than the price of a coke and chips.
I stayed in my room the whole of the next day, waiting for Rea’s call. Tried calling her again a few times, but only her dad picked up the phone. Mother called the next day to ask how I was doing, if I was getting proper food in a foreign country, yada-yada-yada. I made her put the phone down. Varun called, Mira called. I treated everyone equally – rudely.
But Master didn’t call.
The flight back home was the worst, for I sat preparing myself for the damage I had done. The money that was lost, the love that I had pushed aside and the missing master who couldn’t care less.
‘Vasu!’ mother exclaimed as soon as I entered home. ‘Your dad just stepped out to get hot gulab jamuns for you. He said you would like it with the kheer.’
‘I’m not hungry, mother.’ I left my suitcase near the door.
‘How did it go, Vasu?’ she asked cautiously.
‘I’m tired, mum.’
‘Have something to eat first! I’ve made pulao, raita, shahi- paneer, urad dal and, of course, kheer on slow simmer.’
‘Did he call? Master?’
‘He only returned last night. Your father met him,’ she said, offering me lemon-and-mint water. ‘Have your dinner first and I’ll tell you.’
‘No, I don’t want to know or eat anything. I’m sleepy, mum,’ I said heading towards my room. I slammed the door shut behind me.
Muffin was moving about in her bowl as always. My side table was clean since Bajrang Bali was still in my suitcase. Varun’s bed was vacant, as it had been for long. My bed was neatly done. Clean pillows and a new bed sheet. I threw my rucksack on the floor and hurled my shoes at the wall. Socks as well. Jacket, shirt and jeans too. Snuggling up in my bed, I tried to sleep.
I couldn’t.
I had hoped to come back a champion from Linares. There would have been a grand celebration tonight. I would have bought gifts for mother and Rea with the prize money. How proud my parents and my master would have been! But none of that happened because I had lost. How I hated myself, how mad I was at myself – more than I had ever been at Master. I felt like a sealed can of cola that had been shaken vigorously. Waiting and wanting to explode.
The door opened. Dad came and sat beside me. I pretended to be asleep. Stroking my hair, he softly whispered my name. I didn’t open my eyes. He kissed my forehead and went around the room, collecting my stuff that lay littering. From the corner of my eye, I saw him quietly carrying my clothes and shoes out of the room. Then he gently closed the door.
I burst into tears.
I wanted to tell everyone I had hurt that even though it might seem that way, I wasn’t being mean deliberately. I had tried to be brave at Linares. I had come to terms with the fact that I was on my own there. But I don’t think it was too much to ask that Master be available to at least speak to.
I cried till I could cry no more. I thought I would fall asleep crying, but exactly the reverse happened. It left me wide awake. I was really hungry. So much so that my stomach began hurting from hunger. Master’s, Rea’s, everyone’s face flashed in front of me, followed by all the items mother had cooked. Pulao, kheer, paneer, raita, dal, gulab jamun, pudina paratha. I glanced up at the clock. Five hours had passed. The parents must be fast asleep.
I opened the door quietly and entered the kitchen. Mother would always do the dishes at night before going to sleep. She said she couldn’t bear to wake up to a dirty kitchen. But tonight there were no clean dishes next to the sink. There were no dirty ones either. I opened the fridge. The curries in the bowls were full. The pack of gulab jamuns
lay sealed. Everything was untouched. My hunger disappeared instantly when I realized that my parents hadn’t eaten either.
‘Vasu?’ mother said softly from behind. ‘It’s cold and you are in your boxers!’
‘You haven’t eaten, mother? Neither of you have.’
‘Go, put on something warm first,’ she said.
‘Why didn’t you wake me up?’
‘I’ll go get your woollens.’
‘Mother!’ I held her wrist. ‘I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t—’ ‘First you wear your jumper, eat something, and then we’ll talk.’ She was adamant, and for once, I did what I was told.
‘Mum, say something…’
‘Your father was very sad, Vasu,’ she murmured. ‘He said he couldn’t bear to see you so down.’
‘Is he asleep?’ She just nodded.
‘Let’s all eat together,’ I said. ‘I’ll wake him up.’
‘It’s midnight, Vasu.’
‘You just heat up the dinner.’
Suddenly a smile broke out on her beautiful, gentle face.
‘I’ll make fresh dough!’
I went into their room. Dad was sleeping peacefully. I don’t think he was pretending like I had when he’d come to me. His spectacles were resting on a book on the side table. Next to it was a copper glass full of water. It was one of those Ayurvedic habits he followed without fail: fill a glass of copper with water at night and have it first thing in the morning. I gently stroked his hair like he had stroked mine. It had gone thin over the years, I realized. I kissed him on his cheek. He woke up.
‘Papa?’ I said.
‘Vasu?’ He got up immediately and reached out for his specs. He looked to his left to see if mother was still sleeping, and then saw the light outside.
‘Your mother’s in the kitchen?’
‘Let’s have dinner, papa.’
‘Are you okay, Vasu?’ ‘I am now.’
‘Don’t let chess affect you like this, Vasu,’ he said while turning on the table lamp. ‘Don’t ever let anything affect you like this.’ Then he started speaking as if he had not been sleeping a few seconds ago. ‘Winning and losing are twins joined at the hip, son. They are two sides of the same coin. One tournament is not the end of the world. There’s always a next time. Ultimately, what matters is not whether you won or lost, but if you tried your best. Don’t be too hard on yourself.’
As he sat there in his vest, I felt strangely protective and concerned about him. I sensed his vulnerability and my own power to hurt him.
‘Okay, but first let’s have dinner, dad.’
‘Promise me first that you won’t take defeats to your heart. Play it like a game, Vasu.’
‘I promise, I’ll really try,’ I said. ‘Let’s eat something now.’
As always, he went into the kitchen to help mother and set up the table.
‘You sit,’ I said. ‘I’ll set up everything.’
We spent the next two hours at the dinner table. I recounted my experiences at Linares. Every bite of food, every word uttered by dad, every smile on mother’s face, repaired me a bit. Deep within, though, none of it made me feel any less guilty. I wished they weren’t so nice to me. At least, I would have some solace or justification for behaving the way I had. But here they were, so welcoming. Meeting their truant son with open arms. Even though I bit them like a rattled snake, they still picked me up and caressed me. Maybe all parents are like that, accepting their stubborn children back, or maybe not. At any rate, I was deeply ashamed of myself.
None of this meant that Master was right to abandon me like that. I had a score to settle. But I had to apologize to Varun and Mira first. I couldn’t wait for dawn so I could call them. Most of all, though, I had to call Rea. I had to see her and make up with her before meeting Master. Of course, I was desperate to see Master, but I also wanted to make it quite clear that I was in no hurry to see him either. I didn’t want to go rushing to him first thing in the morning. I did want to, but I didn’t.
I called Mira first and her soothing voice and encouraging words immediately put me at ease. ‘Master must have a reason, Vasu,’ she said. ‘Let’s not read between the lines or make quick judgements. Maybe he’s preparing you so that you’re independent.’ She went on to tell me that losing this tournament was not the end of the world and that I ought to take it a bit easy. ‘The hand that’s always clutched gets tired very quickly,’ she added wisely. I felt the guilt of losing subside but as always it was Varun who would crack me up. I called him. He spoke as if nothing had happened.
‘I’m sorry, bro,’ I said. ‘I didn’t speak to you properly that day.’
‘Munshiji,’ he said gravely, ‘don’t get formal with me. Besides, who doesn’t know that even a goldfish communicates better than a chess player?’ And he started laughing.
‘I am a good communicator!’
‘Oh yeah? Is that why Rea isn’t exactly boiling over with love for you right now?’
‘Rea?’ I jumped out of my seat. ‘How do you know?’
‘Let’s say, she trusts yours truly more than she trusts you.’
‘How should I pacify her … how can I win her back, Varun?’
‘Love is not a game of chess, Vasu, that you can just lose or win based on the last move. She cried her eyes out the day she called me. Don’t hurt her. You can do better.’
You can do better. These words kept ringing in my ears. I must do better. I had no excuse to not do better. But what about Master? Couldn’t he do better too?
I didn’t lose in Linares because everyone else was better than me. I had lost because my lighthouse went out on me when I needed it most. He wasn’t there to steer my ship through the storm; he had just left me to crash against the waves and break little by little. I was lost at sea and he hadn’t even come looking for me, not even once in the four years that I had known him. I cast Master out of my mind for the time being. It hurt to think about it.
I met Rea for lunch. Other than a ‘hi’, I didn’t say anything for quite some time. I didn’t know how to face her. What would I say to her?
‘Are you going to give me those flowers,’ she said, ‘or take them back home with you?’
Like Varun, she was behaving as if nothing had happened. Without saying a word, I handed her the bouquet of red roses. And the two chocolate bars I’d brought for her from Linares.
‘Wow!’ she exclaimed. ‘You got me chocolates from Spain!’
‘I’m sorry for the other day, Rea. I was such a jerk. I wish I wasn’t in your life. I—’
‘Sh!’ She put her finger on my lips. ‘Never say that again, Vasu.’
I peered into her hazel eyes. They had suddenly become more serious, a bit smaller.
‘You don’t know what it’s like to not have your loved ones around, Vasu. You are all that I have. I can’t talk to my brother. And there isn’t much that I can share with my parents.’
She got up from her seat and hugged me tight, her smooth face against my stubble. I was over the moon. I loosened up as she laughed and spoke of innocuous things.
I wasn’t as good as Varun, but I did a small mimicry of Kulikov, especially the way he would not smile and refuse to shake hands. Rea was in splits.
We had chana bhaturas for lunch and I went straight to Master’s after that. He opened the door at the first bell. As usual, he was calm, unfrazzled.
‘How are you, Vasu? Let’s look at your games.’
‘You didn’t ask if I won or not?’
‘You aren’t exactly walking in with a trophy.’
‘And why do you think that is?’
‘Because you lost more games than you won,’ he said coldly. ‘Cola?’
‘No, that’s not why,’ I said a bit loudly. ‘I lost because you were not there.’
‘Oh please, not again!’ He rolled his eyes.
Master had a way of setting me off. All this while I still hadn’t learned to accept his indifference towards me, my fate and my life. No matter how much I reminded myself that he didn’t owe me anything, or that I was the student here, or that he was an old man, nothing would work. He could hurt me with hardly a word at all. Real bad.
‘It’s the truth, all right?’ I could feel myself foaming at the mouth. ‘I lost because you were not there.’
‘I told you that I would not join you for any tournament. Besides, I don’t like talking on the phone. It gives me a headache.’
‘Bullshit!’ I let loose. ‘You didn’t call because you didn’t want to call. You never go to any tournament with me because you just don’t give a shit about me or anyone else for that matter.’
‘That’s not true,’ he replied.
‘Of course it’s true! That’s why you are living here alone, old man. No one calls you, no one visits you, and you have no friends. That’s why—’
‘Vasu, that’s enough!’
‘—that’s why you have no son, no daughter, no wife, no family.’
‘Vasu!’ he roared.
He got up from his seat. His lips were quivering. There was fire in his eyes. But it died down pretty quickly. He sat back in his chair, calm again.
‘I thought you were my family,’ he mumbled after a silence of a good few minutes. He took off his glasses and rested his head in his hands.
‘I’m not lonely by choice, you know,’ he spoke after many minutes.
I had calmed down somewhat by now.
‘I’m a terrible student, Master,’ I said. Holding him by his wrists, I sat down next to him. His eyes looked old and moist. ‘You know I was angry and I didn’t mean to say those things.’
‘No, Vasu,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t leave you wondering any more. It’s time you hear why I don’t accompany you to any tournament.’
‘I don’t know why I’ve turned so bitter, Master. I’m hurting everyone.’
I was having such a hard time dealing with my own reality that I wasn’t sure if I could handle the one from Master’s life as well.
‘Vasu,’ he gestured for me to sit. ‘You should know my story.’
