Page 140 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

Daytime, people crammed the lobby. So, I would sneak out to the tea stall. One late morning, I sat
beside a man reading the INDIAN EXPRESS.
“Can you pass over that paper to me, please?” I asked, pointing at the DECCAN CHRONICLES on
the glass table. “Sorry to disturb you.”
He smiled as he passed it over to me. “Never mind.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Where are you from?” He glanced at me from above his reading glasses. “Mizoram?”
“Bhutan,” I said. “You heard it?”
“Yes.”
“You been there?”
He shook his head. “I heard about it from my friends.”
“It’s small but a heaven-on-earth country,” I said, dusting the newspaper. “You’d want to visit it. Many
Indian tourists go there.”
“Really? You got a patient here?”
“Yeah. My baby is in the ICU.”
He removed his reading glasses. “Your baby?”
“Yes, a baby boy. Operated last week.”
“What for?”
“Intestine,” I said. “It was narrow and ganglion cells were missing. The surgeon said they removed a
portion of it.”
He clucked his tongue. “Oh, poor baby.”
“It’s okay. And you, sir?”
“My boss is inspecting the hospital.” He got up and rushed out. “My boss. Bye, see you tomorrow.”
I waved. “Okay.”
He returned two days later. We chatted with me in the lobby. Soon we became close friends. We even
shared personal problems.
“Come, you are my guest,” he said, a week later. “We’ll have tea and snacks.”
“Treat or what?”
“Consider it a special treat.” He ordered two teas and some samosa at the tea stall. The tea man brought
us tea in the tiny earthen cups.
“Please have,” he said.
I loved the aroma of tea in the open street. “Oh, thanks.” The tea tasted even better than its aroma. So,
I sipped on it, bit by bit. “What’s your religion, sir?”
He nibbled on a samosa. “Well, I am Hindu. And you?”
“I am a Buddhist,” I said. “We have a similar philosophy, don’t we?”
His eyes were stern. “Do you take meat?”
I nodded. “Occasionally.”
“All?”
“Only pork and beef.” I fidgeted. “And sometimes, eggs. What about you?”
“I am a Brahmin. And Brahmins don’t even touch meat.”
“Oh, no!” I muttered. “What have I done? How come I never lied to him?”
The taste of tea and samosa disappeared. My ears turned red. “Oh, really?” I said.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, but this is a fact. Meat isn’t good for our health.”
“Oh, really? Maybe I should stop eating meat.”
“I am not dissuading you, but this is true.” He looked around. “People who take beef turn lepers.”
“Gosh, I didn’t know that. I won’t take meat from now on. Any meat.”
The tea conversation seemed to take forever, but my honest friend laid back on the bench.
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