I spring out of my seat and run down two floors, ducking among those playing basketball in the Quad and into the main building. Passing the main reception, I run to the visitor room, stopping only when I reach the entrance. It's Dad all right. His back is turned to me and he is staring out the window.
He turns as I enter. "Vikram!"
His face seems normal and he even smiles at me. I let myself relax then. Running to him, I hug him firmly. I am as tall as his six feet two inches, having put on a growth spurt in the last few months. He feels strong, his muscles firm against my bony arms.
"You're so skinny. Aren't you eating at all?" He ruffles my hair.
"Of course I am, Dad. I can't seem to get enough food inside me before I burn it all off though."
"Thank your stars. Wait till you get to be my age." He pats his still-flat stomach below the buttoned-down white shirt.
"A tie, Dad?" Dad loves his suits, but I rarely see him in a tie.
"Work. I was in the vicinity, thought I'd drop in."
I laugh. "Right. Like drop up almost 3,000 feet above sea level."
"I wanted to see you, Vik." He leads me to the sofa.
Something in his voice makes me look at him closely. His face is gaunter that I remember, and his eyes look tired. For the first time I notice the greys at his temples. In Dad's case, it just makes him look a little more dashing.
"When I grow up I want to be just like you, Dad." I am not sure where that came from, but I mean it.
"It's nice you haven't yet turned into a sulky teen." He smiles but there seems to be a sad edge to it. "You are a far better person than me."
"Dad, please," I say, taken aback by the praise.
"Anyway, look, I came here to give you this." He hands over the black leather briefcase he is carrying.
"What's this?"
"I need you to keep it for me, Vik."
"Of course I will … but what's in it, Dad?"
"Open it when the time comes."
"You are not making any sense, Dad."
"You'll know when it's the right time." Placing his hands over mine, he squeezes it firmly.
"You're scaring me now." I look at him worriedly. "Is everything okay at work?"
He nods.
"Are you off on another crazy assignment you can't tell us anything about?"
He nods again, a small smile on his face. I know better than to ask what the mission is about.
"If something happens to me …"
"Dad honestly. You always say that and scare me." It's true though. Before every assignment, Dad's always turned to me and made me promise to look after the family if anything happens to him. I should be used to it by now. But each time he takes on another assignment, fear strikes me anew. It's as if he has lived through so many deaths in one lifetime.
"If something happens to me, I want you to promise that you'll still go to Oxford and complete your degree."
"Oxford?"
"You are applying there, aren't you?"
I nod. "But there's no guarantee I'll get in."
"You will." He drops his hand to his side and leans back against the sofa before loosening his tie. He suddenly looks his age. Dad's only fifty. But the tilt of the light just then darkens the hollows below his cheeks, bringing out the fine lines on his forehead.
"Promise you'll go to Oxford and complete your education regardless of what happens."
"What's going to happen, Dad?"
"Nothing." He grins, shakes his head, and with that, the dark cloud that had threatened to cloak us for a few seconds is dispelled.
He slaps me on the back and gets to his feet. "Nothing at all. But I just wanted you to know; all the financial arrangements have been made. When you get admitted to Oxford, if for some reason I am unreachable, just speak to my lawyer and he will release all the money you need."
He pulls out a card and hands it over. I pocket it without looking at it.
"Why would I speak to a lawyer, anyway, when I have you?"
"Of course you come to me first … But if I am on assignment and you need access to funds …" He lets the words hang in the air.
"Dad, what—?"
He gets to his feet and holds out his hand. "Come on, I need a beer."
I walk out the door with him, just as my English teacher passes by. "Vikram." She greets me before her eyes pass my dad and back to his face.
"And this is?"
"Dad … Meet Ms Hermes, my English teacher."
I can already see from the glazed look in Hermes' eyes that she finds Dad attractive. He's always had this effect on women.
I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to be like him, to be able to turn on that charisma whenever I needed it. Now that would be a real gift.
22
Age 16
Lose a girl. Fall in love with a game. Fair exchange?
I do miss my weekly cricket sessions with Ash. I got to be better than her at the game a long time ago. The only reason I kept turning up for practice was to see her. Thanks to her, I discovered a love for cricket. One that would last a lifetime. As it turns out, I am a far better player than her … Or Amar. Good enough to make it to the school's official cricket team. Of course, it helps that while everyone wants to get into the basketball team, not many want to go for the cricket team. But I'm not complaining. I'll take any opportunity I can to play the game.
As for the Ash-shaped hole in my heart, … well I don't know it then, but it'll be gone. Soon. Filled over with other memories. Leaving just a light scar behind. Guess I didn't feel as much for her as I thought I did.
Between prepping for grade twelve exams and playing cricket, I feel like my every waking hour is packed. I spend all my spare time with Tenzin and his friends, which is how I come to be hanging out in the mall at Mussoorie instead of hitting the books. But Tenzin had insisted and so here, we are.
Clad uniformly in jeans, hoodies and baseball hats, the boys look pretty slick. Tenzin wears a brand new Lacquer jersey, another gift among the many he receives from home on a weekly basis. Me—I like my faded old leather bomber jacket. My concession to fitting in with the boys is my very own pair of Wu-Tang jeans. There's just something badass about them. It's a brand I am going to stick to, especially in the more trying times of my life ahead.
Not that you'd know it that day, as the five of us swagger up the strip in the town center. It's August, just a few months into the start of the school year. The sun is just beginning its descent, and the shop lights twinkle on, one by one. We perch at the gang's customary spot. It's a bench at the edge of the mall. If you look down you can see the rest of the town spread out one way. Look the other direction and the entire mall spreads out before you. More importantly, you can see every single girl who walks by. It also gives them a clear view to check us out.
"So remember, stay cool. Don't give these girls the time of the day," Tenzin lectures as I take in the scene. "Especially this girl, Miriam—Mirri—boy, I so want to get into her pants. But, you know, got to act all casual around them. Let them come to you, know what I mean?"
"The Italians call this passeggiata," I say to Tenzin, as I stand next to him at the bench.
The others sprawl in various poses, meant to convey casual disregard of their surroundings. All of them have a lit cigarette that they puff at. Tenzin offers me one, which I refuse. "What the fuck is passe … passage … dude?"
"It's an Italian tradition," I say. "A gentle stroll in the evening through the town center—for which you are meant to dress up, of course—and then you walk through the piazza, to see and be seen."
"Yeah, whatever, man." Tenzin puffs away on his cigarette, coughing a little. "You going to Italy or something?"
"Nope, Oxford probably. It's just … this reminds me of a passeggiata, Indian-style."
"Dude," he taps me on my forehead, "all that studying is frying your brains. You need to get out more often. Check out the girls … know what I mean?"
"Hmm! You need both brains and muscles
dude." I grin, but I know what he means. The flame I've been carrying for Ash has died a natural death, but it's left me with a bitter aftertaste. No, I don't think I am headed anywhere near girls anywhere soon. I might look at them, but that's about it for now.
"Hey, Tinny!" A girl in mini skirt, boots over her knees, leather jacket zipped up to enhance the thrust of her breasts, approaches us.
"Tinny?" Did she really call him that? I chuckle. Once. Before wiping all expression off my face.
"Hey, Mirri," Tenzin nods. He's playing it super cool, but his body is wound tight; he is almost vibrating in anticipation, hoping to speak with her.
"Who's your friend here?" She nods at me.
I raise an eyebrow at her and almost choke at the surprise on Tenzin's face. Apparently, she's interested in me. The rest of the boys are watching us, too distracted to smoke now.
"Ah, my friend, Vik. Vik, meet Mirri."
I nod, unsure what to do next. Then I put out my hand, and when she places her smaller palm in mine, I kiss it. "Enchanted," I say.
The boys around me chuckle. But Miriam takes no heed. Taking a step forward, she looks up and her eyes round with interest. Curling a strand of hair around her forefinger, she asks, "So, you want to go see a movie?"
Charm. It definitely gets you everywhere.
23
Age 17
"… Often think this is where lost souls come to forget about the real world for a while."
Tenzin and I are walking through a familiar path, which leads through the woods behind the school, in what has become a nightly ritual over the past month.
He stops in his tracks. "That sure was poetic, bro."
I grin and continue walking. My feet crunch on the dried leaves and mud. I take in a deep breath, as if I want to store that smell of new leaves, dewdrops and rotting pinecones. It's the smell of the Himalayas. I doubt I'll ever find this potent combination anywhere else. And yet, today I feel restless. Ready for something more.
We've reached the end of the forest, where the edge of the hill juts out over the city. Ducking under the safety railing, we walk right to the very end and sit down, our legs dangling over the side.
Tenzin pulls down the zip of his jacket and pulls out the small bottle of whisky he had tucked out of sight earlier. Opening it, he takes a healthy swig before handing it over. I chug it back, coughing as the liquid burns its way down my throat. A slight warmth tingles through my legs, pleasantly warding off the growing chill of the early February night.
We look over the lights of the city, shimmering in the ghostly mist.
"So, can't believe it'll all be over in a few weeks."
Tenzin doesn't reply.
"What next?" I ask.
"Back to Bhutan, to the family business, I suppose. Dunno, never really gave it much thought," he answers, his voice distracted.
"You really don't care about what you are going to do, do you?" I hand over the bottle to him.
"Nope."
"I used to think it was all an act." I don't look at him, but I sense his glance flicker over my face.
"What? That I don't really care that my future is not all mapped out, unlike you?" I know he is being sarcastic, but I don't rise to the bait.
"I don't want to let down my father." Sitting here in the dark, the lights blurring in the distance as the alcohol seeps into my bloodstream, makes it easy to speak.
"Such an obedient son." He says it without malice, gulping down more of the whisky before handing it to me.
"Such a rebellious rock star," I say, grinning.
"I envy your loyalty to your family," he says.
"I envy you not being worried about what you are going to do when you leave school." I often wish I could be as chilled out as him, too. But somehow, since Dad's visit, I haven't been able to relax. It feels like my life is hurtling along towards a destination I can't see. I want to get off. I want to stay on too. See what's at the end of this trip.
"Something will turn up, you know?"
"You sound like Micawber—"
"Who?"
"David Copperfield," I say. Why is it that only I seem to remember these things? "You obviously didn't pay attention in Lit class, did you?"
"Somebody had to play the guitar and keep the girls happy." He points to himself. "While others—" he points his forefinger sideways to me, his movements exaggerated, "—were too busy being nerds. Cramming for exams. Getting their hearts broken."
I don't mind being called a nerd. It's who I am. I can't get rid of that part of me now. I just learn to hide it better, that's all.
"Hey, I accept my musical abilities are … like zero," I touch my thumb to my forefinger, "and I have my nose stuck in books a lot. But, at least when it comes to girls …" I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth … "You got to admit I have a certain appeal."
"Maybe, but do you have a girlfriend, heh?"
I shake my head. "Nah. Not ready to commit. Gotta see the world first."
"Oxford, you mean?"
"I suppose. I still have to take the exams."
"And I'm sure it's all easy for you. The amount of time you've spent with books, if you had been with a girl that long, you'd have children of your own by now."
I burst out laughing, spit out a mouthful of whisky. "Now look what you've done, made me waste all this good whisky!"
"There's more …" he says.
I look at the bottle in my hand. "This shit is good … What is it?"
"Glenfiddich."
"Cool." I take another swig. My head whirls as the alcohol joins the rest of the liquid in my stomach. "I forget, when I am with royalty I always get the best." My hands are unsteady when I hand the whisky to him.
A sound makes me look behind. "Did you hear something?"
"No." Tenzin shakes his head, and tilting the bottle he finishes off the rest of the alcohol before flinging the bottle over the hillside.
"Hey. Why'd you do that?" I protest.
He shrugs. "Whatever. When did you get so prissy, dude?"
"When did you get so careless?" I ask.
"Look at you," Tenzin gets to his feet, swaying slightly, "obeying your father, studying all the time … you have your future all mapped out in front of you, don't you? Mr Good Boy!" he sneers, and his foot slides.
"Watch out." I jump up and put up a hand to steady him. Flinging off my hand, he ducks back under the safety parapet. "Don't pretend to care, man. You only give a shit about your precious future."
"Hey, that's not fair," I protest.
"You have no idea what it means to come from a small country still struggling to find its identity. To fight for what you believe in all the time. Yet knowing you don't have a choice but to go back and take your place in the family tree." He spits on the ground.
I've known Tenzin for almost five years now. Only now I understand that beneath that easy-going, ultra-hip skin he wears, is a simmering rage. One he doesn't often reveal.
"You have a choice, you do—"
They jump us from the trees. Later on, I realize, drunk, as we were, that we didn't have a chance.
I am flung aside, to the ground. And then four boys are on Tenzin. Two of them have cricket bats the third uses his fists. Their arms rise rhythmically. Tenzin screams, breaking through my surprise. I jump to my feet and throw myself on the closest boy, managing to wrestle him to the ground.
"Don't," the boy says, panting. "Run away. This is not your fight."
"Kim?" I've seen him often with the rest of the Korean gang. "What are you doing? Why are you beating him up?"
"He hit on my girl. He has to pay the price." His voice is serious, with intent. It only worries me more.
I manage to push him aside and rush back in time to see the third boy pull out a knife. "No!" I scream. "Don't do this."
Kim grips my arms, folding them behind my back. "You won't understand."
Oh, but I know all too well what this is about. "It's a bit tiring when you use the excuse of girls to b
eat each other up, you know?" I say, a cold edge to my voice. "Why not just admit that you guys can't stand the sight of each other. Tenzin made you lose face in the last fight and now you just can't let it go, can you? It's just an ego thing—"
Then, something slams into the side of my head and I collapse on the ground.
When I come to, I open my eyes, unable to move. I have a hammering headache and my vision ebbs and flows as if someone has removed my brains and replaced it with glowing lava. I sit up. Groan aloud. The headache cranks up another notch. My head is splitting in half.
"Tenzin!" I crawl over to his sprawled figure. No … No. How badly did they beat him? Please, let him be okay.
He lies on his back, eyes closed.
I touch him and pull back in shock. Blood. My fingers are coated in blood. My jeans feel wet. My knees, too, are soaked in blood … his blood.
He doesn't seem to be breathing.
I look for his pulse. It's weak. Thready. But it's there. I get to my feet and almost black out again with the pain. I half crawl, half walk; I manage to make it to the school to get help.
Tenzin doesn't stay till graduation. He doesn't even take his grade twelve exams. As soon as he has recovered enough to travel, he returns home. I don't even get to say goodbye. You know someone for so many years, and one day he's gone, just like that. We keep in touch. But it'll be many years before I see him again.
Part III
Moving Back To Bombay
24
Age 17
The last five years of my life are all packed into two trunks. I load them onto the trolley and heave the backpack over my shoulder, adjusting it to make sure it's secure. Then I trundle my load out of Bombay domestic airport. As soon as I exit the building, the heat hits me. Beads of sweat pop out on my forehead. I take off my bomber jacket and fold it over my hand. I breathe in the city smell of petrol fumes mixed with mud and body odor. For a second I am nostalgic for the cool, crisp air of the Himalayan foothills. Just as I berate myself for clinging to a past that is definitely over, I see Xavier waving at me. I push my cart over to him. I can feel my face pull apart in a wide grin at the enthusiasm with which he leaps forward to take the trolley from me.
Chosen: Vik's origin story (Many Lives Prequel Book 2) Page 9
