"Everything went well. Thank you Kanha." I thanked with my joined hands as I stepped out in the back corner.
"Well done Hanitra." Haema, my Public Relations professor praised me. She is my most favourite alumni here, I have spent most of my free time with her, discussing the topics of political significance from the public's view.
"Heading home this early? The program has just begun beta. You should stay here." I shook my head in denial, though politely.
She is the first person to ever notice my habit of avoiding gatherings that don't involve participation much." This celebration will include nothing but the praises of those officials and the Chief Guest, whose name is still unknown to me as his arrival was marked with my absence, I was sent to check the stage arrangements and the order of the performances.
"Fine, but go safely bachche." I bid her farewell and went towards the parking area near the main gate.
Kanha, my bag! How could you forget it Tara? Stupid. And the University calls you intelligent? You need to improve your habit of leaving things behind. An investigative journalist must be always careful, no traces before the publishing.
Next moment, I was walking back, cursing myself when I collided into a solid body. Kanha, I can't even walk carefully.
I was watching the next performance, a presentation on the history of journalism when mom called me. Knowing that I can't ignore the call, I stepped out of the hall.
"Ji Maa?" (Yes mom?)
"Aaram se pahunch gaya tha na? Vahan sab kaisa hai?"
(Did you reach comfortably? How's everything there?)
"Everything's great Maa. Aap hukum kijiye, kya kaam hai." I know this lady very well, if she calls you with a grin, unusually wide, you know she is about to have her work done.
(You tell me, what are your orders?)
"Manekshawar temple se Mahadev ka prasad le aana, please."
(Please bring Lord Shiva's prasad- a sacred offering from the temple.)
"Anything but that Maa, I won't enter your god's temple. You know that."
"Shivaay, Shivratri ke baad aaj hi pehla bhog logo ko milta hai, sabse special hota hai. Please beta, mere liye."
(After Shivratri, it's the first food available to the public, it's special. Do it for me, please.)
For her, you can bend the world Shivaay, and this woman knows her authority very well.
"Maa aap blackmail mat kiya-" A sudden collision interrupted me, sending my phone to the ground. Mom called my name twice but it was another voice that ringed in my ears.
(Mom stop blackmailing-)
"I'm sorry, I didn't see you-" Before letting the voice finish, I hissed, without looking at its owner,
"Dekh kar nahi chal sakte aap?". I looked up at the force that collided into me and saw the person rubbing their forehead, probably feeling slight pain. The effect of those tense exercises of mine. My eyes met a pair of blue-hazels, Hanitra, the speech girl.
(Can't you see while walking?)
Her eyes widened, as if surprised by the confrontation.
"Excuse me, aap bhi bina dekhe hi chal rahe the, varna ye hota hi nahi. Path ke beech mein phone mein aankhein rakhenge to yahi hoga, koi Jannat nahi milegi. Gussa karna se pehle apni bhi galti dekhiye, chal to aise rahe the jaise aapki hi zameen ho."
(You were also not attentive, otherwise this wouldn't have happened. If you'll walk in the middle of the pathway, while having your eyes on your phone, this will be the fate you'll meet, not a heaven. Look at your mistake before yelling, walking as if you own the place.)
Before I could reply, I saw her retreating figure, shaking her head, probably muttering something. Journalist wale tevar abhi se hi dikha rahi hai. I picked up my phone, fortunately no scratch.
(She is showing the traits of a journalist from now itself.)
"Sorry Maa, vo-"
But the lady didn't let me complete the sentence, her eyes wide with curiousity and something else, probably tease? "Someone snapped back at Shivaay Singh Rathore, that too in anger and he stood silent? Tu Shivaay hi hai na?"
(Are you really Shivaay.)
"Maa, please. She was right, even I was at fault, atleast some. Forget it, any other order, My Majesty?"
"Haan, ek thaal bhi le aana."
(Yes, also bring a thaal-a holy plate.)
I sighned.
She is the only person to make me visit the place I despise the most, and she knows how well to use that power. I'm definitely not going there alone. Let the program finish, I'll take Dhairya along for that 20 minutes drive.
Kitne ajeeb insaan the. Khud bhi to aise hi chal rahe the. I reached home in my black Verna, the car I bought with my own money, not using baba's, only ten months ago. His eyes held tears and pride when I made him sit in the passenger seat for the first time, driving through the whole Agra city.
(What a weird human, even he was walking like that, blindly.)
The first thing I did, after entering our mansion was to lie on the couch, sleeping within the next instance. I wasn't tired but this body somehow reacts the very moment I lie down in peace.
It was around 3 when my eyes decided to open themselves, signing that my rest was over. The fest was about to end.
Finally I could contact my professor. It's not like I don't talk to students, I do but their interests and mannerisms create a boundary between us when I try to do so. They fail to understand me, my formalities and hence, I'm more attached to my professors. It's better this way, the updates they give me are unmatched and even faster than those friends.
"Tara?" came a voice from the kitchen. From the aroma I could smell, he was making moong halwa.
"Ji Baba?" I replied, quite loud to let him hear.
"Mandir nahi jana kya? Panditji ka phone aaya hai, pehla bhog mil raha hai. Jaldi jao varna khatam ho gya to hume mat kehena.
(Don't you need to visit the temple? The priest called, first offerings are being given. Be early or else don't blame us later.)
Hell! How could I forget it.
Every year after Maha Shivratri, the Manekshawar temple stops providing prasad until the next fortnight. During this period, Maa Parvati cooks food for Mahadev only. It is believed that the first bhog after that interval is directly prepared by her for the entire heaven. The taste of normal prasad and this one are known to never match, though no new ingredient is added.
Without another thought, I dashed towards the entrance door, unlocking my car. It was afternoon, the road wasn't crowded much, thank you Kanha. The fast thirteen-minutes drive came to a halt as I rushed inside the temple with my fast and heavy steps.
The place didn't seem as bustling as it should have been today. Is it over already? Am I getting nothing? No Hanitra, stay positive. "Hey Mahadev, please bhog khatam mat hone dijiyega. I swear I'll be early next year."
(Please don't let the bhog finish)
I was running through the stairs, towards the main hall when history repeated itself, this time as a farce- I bumped into someone, and this time, his thaal was literally flying in the air as flowers fell. I looked up and those same charcoal eyes from the morning incident met mine.
"Aap?" A mixture of anger and surprise clearly laced his voice. (You?)
"Ji haan, 'MAIN'. Iss baar bhi kehe dijiye ki humari hi galti hai, hum hi andhe hain." Wait, why am I even feeling anything, frustration above that?
(Yes 'ME'. Go ahead, Declare it, I'm also at fault this time, the blind one.)
"Vo to aap hain hi. Earlier the phone, and now this thaal. Kahin agli baar mujhe hi na gira do. Pata nahi konsi marathon daudti reheti ho?" He walked off, dusting his clothes, clearly irritated.
(So you are.)
(God knows if I am the next one to fall. I wonder what marathon are you even running.)
Stop him Hanitra, he didn't get a replacement for the fallen plate. It might not be good for him.
"Rukiye," Before he could step down the last stair, my voice stopped him in his track, "Aap mandir se bina nayi thaal liye mat jaiye. Ye ashubh hota hai.
(Stop, you shouldn't leave the temple without a new plate, it's a bad omen.)
His eyebrows rise, as if questioning my words. "I don't believe in these stupid omens. Ek baar andar aaya tha, that's enough. I'm not someone who's interested in visiting this place. Nafrat hai hume, aapke in bhagwan se, kat ta hai humara man yahan anane se, aur ye baat vo achche se jaante hain. Hame zyada der apne ghar mein dekhker vo bhi irritate hi honge"
( I came inside once, and that's enough. I hate this god of yours, my heart aches entering this place and he knows it clearly. Having me in his home for this long would make him irritated too.)
Strange, name of the god himself and still hating him.
He left, leaving me behind, grasping his words. Leave it Hanitra, the prasad. Run, varna aaj to sanyasi bana denge panditji tujhe.
(Run, or else the priest will surely make you a nun today.
Ten minutes and I got the prasad along with two thaals, one for me and the other one for the peepal tree. As he had left without one, I decided to offer a plate from his side, in order to avoid any evil that could come upon him. I'm not too superstitious but some things do have an affect.
Vo kya hai na, kuch log hote hi itne free hai, ki dusron ko nazar laga hi dete hain.
(Some people are actually too free that they cast an evil eye on others.)
The thaal was just about to be offered when I spotted him a few feets away, standing with someone whose back faced me. Good, Thank you Kanha, it's even better to give it to him now as he's present. Who knows if someone from his family is a devotee. Keeping my thaal inside the car, I walked towards them.
"Umm Excuse me, I'm sorry for the fall earlier. I know we both bumped because we were both at fault. You might be standing for a new thaal, right? Here, have a new one." I extended the thaal towards him but the other man acknowledged me, with astonishment clearly laced in his tone.
"Hanitra?" I turned towards the voice. "Dhairya Sir?" The education minister himself knows him, wait, was he the Chief Guest?
"YOU bumped into him?" I gave an apologetic nod, wait we were both at fault- did he just alter the story? It's okay Tara, god should be placed above in this situation, not yourself. But that conversation was cut short when that charcoal-eyed man interrupted.
"No need for this kindness of yours, I can get it myself." This damn human! Sorry Mahadev, but he deliberately wants me to place myself above and I think he's going to win this time.
"Great." I take my hand back, and nod in agreement. "To jaiye, aur apne liye thoda dimaag, thodi drishti aur sabse zaruri, thodi si manners bhi maang lijiyega. Kya pata Mahadev aap par kripa kar de bhi dein."
(Then go and even ask for a brain, eyesight and most significantly, manners. Who knows that God might grant you those.)
My tone was calm. Too calm.
The kind of calm that came right before a storm.
"Excuse me? Aankhon ki need mein to tum ho Miss Usain Bolt, you don't see anything while running. Hawa khud side hat jaati hogi tumhe aata dekhkar"
(It's you who's in the need for eyesight. Air, itself makes space when it sees you arriving.)
This time instead of being angry, I was taken aback. "Arey, bade rude hain aap. Main iss guilt mein ki meri vajah se aap bina thaal liye gye, aapke naam se ek aur thaal chadha rahi thi, aur aap mujhe hi do baatein suna rahe hain?"
(Look at that rudeness. Here in the guilt of being the reason behind your walk without a thaal, I was offering another one in your name, and you are snapping at me?)
"No one asked you to do that. It was your belief in the first place. I was done the very moment that thaal fell."
This time, the minister interfered, sensing the surrounding.
"Shivaay- Hanitra relax. Shivaay, take the thaal and Hanitra, thank you."
"But Dhairya-"
"Tu konsa vaise mandir dobara jaata? Ye thaal mil rahi hai na, thank her for this."
(You were not going to enter the temple again anyways. You're getting this thaal right?...)
I had turned my heels to leave but Dhairya Sir's voice stopped me.
"Hanitra, wait," he said taking out a white envelope out of his blazer pocket.
"I had intended to give it to you in the hall itself but the Dean told me that you were already gone." He took a pause to extend that envelope towards me.
"Miss Hanitra, congratulations. You have been selected for the 'Global Investigative Journalism Conference' in Jaipur. Make sure to bring this with yourself."
The ride back home was joyous, rather than peaceful. I dropped by the Kanha temple for two things. I was happy, and my only friend must be a part of this happiness.
"Ye aapka bhog Panditji, aur ye meri taraf se mithai. I'm selected.
(Here's your offering and here's some sweet from my side, I'm selected.)
He placed his hand on my head, smiling brightly. "Shabaash meri laado. Ye to bas pehli seedhi hai, meri gudiya ko to aur aage badhna hai."
(Well done my child. It's just the first step, my doll has a lot to climb.)
Boom, the stars have finally collided, more like exploded into each other.
Fate has begun it's chess. The first move was eventually played by it. It's just the onset of the game. More to come, more to fall.
In this race against fate, the winner is always but the merciless fate itself.
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