“Hello, Aditi Ma’am, are you busy?”
“No, Rasi, tell me…”
“Aditi Ma’am, you remember Manan from Steve’s batch?”
“ Ya…-
Aditi felt a small spiral of foreboding churning in the pit of her stomach. Bad news? Were the dreaded words going to be uttered from the other end?
And then there it followed- “Ma’am, Manan passed away in a road accident some time ago- the car in which he was traveling rammed into a lorry- there were 4 other boys - 3 of them died on the spot- the other 2 are critical…
Aditi remembered asking some questions, but the answers did not register. Manan’s face flashed in Aditi’s mind- his disarming, child-like smile – the incipient moustache did not lend itself to his appearing grown up- probably, now after 4 years he must be looking more like the young man he is- was!
Aditi kept uttering ‘Chhe’- over and over again- as if the expletive would undo what had apparently happened. It was weird how sometimes one felt that if one could simply rewind a few moments, the undesirable incident could be undone.
After keeping the phone aside, Aditi was seized by an instinct to reach out to others who knew Manan- the other teachers- she dialed her friend and colleague Nayana- the line was engaged…she thought of sharing a message in her friends’ group- and then she noticed that the Principal had already shared the news in the school group and condolence messages were flowing in.
Aditi paced around the hall absentmindedly- she gazed up at the framed picture on the wall- that picture gifted to each of their teachers by Manan’s batch after the farewell 4 years ago. Her gaze remained glued on the smiling image of the boy- 2nd from right...
That moment between the ‘is’ transitioning into the ‘was’- the amorphous space was something Aditi often grappled with-. The proximity between the two moments always seemed so murky – so dicey that one deludes oneself that it was still possible to transit between one zone to the other. Why wasn’t anybody doing that- trying to turn the clock back- That nebulous margin between ‘what if’s and ‘if only’s…that one detrimental moment which could be swapped to rework Destiny… set right the world that had crumbled …Wishful thinking overpowers rationale- that zone where logic doesn’t prevail.
The images continued to float in her mind’s eye- Manan’s lanky form shuffling down the school corridor with an impish grin on his stubble ridden face. Aditi tried to remember the times they had spoken- apart from academic concerns- she wondered if their interactions had been confined to nods and smiles of acknowledgement. Aditi had always been discomfited by the realisation that sometimes teachers had no inkling of the lives of their students beyond the precincts of the school. Aditi’s thoughts veered to Manan’s parents and a boulder sunk into the pit of her stomach.
Aditi then dialed the Principal Ma’am’s number. The line was busy. The Principal called back in a few moments. Her voice was broken. She filled in the details- each word felt like a stab. Aditi just listened- she could find no words- just some incoherent sounds escaped her lips.
After disconnecting the call, Aditi stood in the balcony gazing unseeingly into the distance for how long, she had no idea. As the moments slithered by like an oil slick, the sense of irrevocable doom slowly sunk in rendering a sense of utter hopelessness.
She was reminded of Manan’s friends. They had been such a thick band and kept in touch through the years after leaving school. They must be devastated. The thought caused a dull, nagging ache behind her eyes...solidifying into a headache. She reached out to each of them through messages.
Two days later, the boys came to meet the Principal and they asked to meet Aditi also.
Aditi’s heart lurched when she saw the distraught boys. There were some moments of deafening silence in the room. No one could find words … finally Steve broke the ice- and then the others also shared their memory nuggets of their departed friend. Unuttered sobs and sniffles hovered in the air… and somehow there in the Principal’s cabin, Manan’s presence seemed looming amidst the grieving souls in those moments of shared loss. The boys were aching… Aditi could offer no words of solace.
The space of suspended belief is such a colloidal bubble- as she watched the receding figures of the boys, her heart went out to them- to the bereaved parents- the elder brother- and finally the tears that Aditi had been holding back with utmost effort spilled down her cheeks….
