Page 157 - FATE & DESTINY
P. 157

FATE & DESTINY

               “That’s right. How’d you know that?”
               “And I read your letter.”
               “Oh, you did?” I said. “Um, I don’t remember sending any letter.”
               “I suppose you are selling the books for your baby’s treatment, right?”
               “Oh, yes. I remember now. I am taking my baby to India.”
               “I want to meet you for a program. Can I come to your school—say this afternoon—at 1:00 pm?”
               “Sure, ma’am.”
               She came in the afternoon with her crew members. “Sorry, we’re late,” she said, briskly brushing her
            sleek tresses with her fingers.
               “It’s okay,” I said.
               “Let’s shoot now. Can we use the staffroom?”
               “Over there,” I said and ushered them into the staff room.
               Her eyes—outlined with blue eyeshadow—blinked in excitement. And her lips layered with lip-gloss
            sparkled against the dim light in the room. My heart thudded as the cameraman positioned the stand.
               “Are you ready, sir?” she said. “And cameraman?”
               Before the cameraman showed a thumbs-up sign, she flipped her hair back. Luminous lights flashed,
            and the camera swarmed in on us. She switched on her charming-camera smile. “Can you tell me about the
            book?”
               I cleared my throat and faced the camera. “Um, the book is about an orphan boy suffering at a tender
            age. He suffers at the hands of his callous uncles.” I cleared my throat in nervousness. “Um, unable to bear
            the brunt, the boy absconds from home and roves the Thimphu town. And one day, a boy from the upper
            echelons of society ensconces him. His parents adopt the urchin. Later…” I scratched my head and
            glanced at the camera, trying not to stumble over words. “Later… um… a femme-fatale jilts the urchin for
            his brother. The poor urchin absconds from the palatial house… and he joins the army and sacrifices his
            life.”
               She looked at me with her jaw dropped. “What is the title of the book?”
               “Tears of Suffering.”
               “Well, the story sounds touching. What is your motive behind writing this book?”
               I tucked my collar nervously. “Um, the main motive is to generate expenditure for my baby’s treatment.
            We’re taking him to India soon.”
               “How much have you invested, and how much are you expecting from the sale?”
               “I invested over thirty thousand ngultrums so far, but I can’t tell you about profit yet. Um, maybe, fifty
            thousand or more.”
               She glanced at the camera. “Would it suffice your baby’s treatment?”
               “By my calculation, yes.”
               Her manicured nails glimmered as she held the mike near my mouth. “As a father, you do every bit, but
            do you think it will pay your efforts off?”
               My heart ached. “Um, I… I…”
               I didn’t notice tears in my eyes when the interview ended. The cameraman shut his camera and packed
            it.
               The news reporter fidgeted. “I am so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
               “Sorry, I couldn’t control it. I hope you understand my vibes, ma’am.”
               She held her chest and tapped her fingers on the table. “I am sorry, oops. But this program would
            promote your sale. Believe me.”
               “I would appreciate that, ma’am. I don’t know how to thank you.”
               “You need not thank me. Take care.”
               The next day, my cell phone buzzed. “Hello, Mr. Dorji?”
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