Page 140 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

The nurse let out a whimper of disgust. “Eek! Empty the bag, please.”
I put the catheter and bag into the bin. Hours later, the rumbling stopped and Rinchen talked, and he played that
night. One week later, Dr. John discharged him. Upon our request, he also consented to send us for the baby’s
review to CMCH.
This time, I went to Biney Travel Agent in Jaigaon. A dashing man in a black suit greeted me.
I shook his hands. “I came for my train tickets. Mrs. Phuntsho Choden has booked for us.”
“ID card, please?” he demanded.
A young lad with long hair, on the chair beside him, said, “Vellore?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I am headed for my college.”
“Which college?”
“Bangalore.”
“Are we traveling on the same train?”
“Yes.”
“You name, please?”
“Dendup.”
“Six thousand rupees,” interrupted Mr. Biney. “A nun is escorting her patient to Vellore. Can you take them with
you?”
I had no time to ask their details. So, I said, “Okay.”
“Departure time is 11:00 am. You must arrive at Alipur Railway Station half an hour early. I will arrange a taxi.
It’s two thousand.”
“It’s reasonable,” said Dendup.
“Okay.”
“Please tell Aney,” said Mr. Biney.
Outside, I dialed the number. “Um, Mr. Biney gave me your number. Are you Chojey?”
“Yes, la,” she replied.
“Fine. So, are you going with us to Vellore?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“We will meet near Biney Travel Agent at 7:00 am. Don’t be late.”
“Okay,” she said.
The next morning, we arrived ten minutes early. It was a metallic minivan. Dendup was conversing with a young
driver.
“Where is Aney?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” said Dendup. “We would get late.”
I dialed her number, but Aney didn’t pick up the phone. After several desperate attempts, she answered the
phone.
“Please hurry,” I said. “We’re late.”
“Almost there,” she said.
After fifteen minutes, Dendup said, “We are running out of time. We better move.”
“Not without Chojay,” I said. “They are on their way.”
Dendup paced around the car.
I too paced, glancing over the gate. Chojay and a scrawny little girl arrived. They were both young. The little girl
had her right jaw lopsided. She turned away her face from me.
“Chojey?” I said.
“Yes, Ata,” she said. “She is my sister, Pema Zangmo.”
“Hurry, get in.”
“Hum lok late hoga ya,” said the cabbie.
“Jaldi chalo na,” I said.
The cabbie drove towards the Bhutan gate.
“Kaha jara hai?” asked Dendup.
“Petrol dralna pari ga na,” he replied.
I slapped my forehead. “Abhi? Ap to bohut late hoga yaar.”
“Yaar, petrol to dralna pari gana,” said the cabbie again.
“Kaal kyu nai drala?” asked Dendup.
“Arey, Chinta mat karo,” replied the cabbie.
“Kya chinta mat karo?” I blurted. “You’re a donkey.”

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