Your Dreams Are Mine Now (14 page)

Arjun licked the tips of his greasy buttery fingers.

Rupali stared.

‘Desi food! Desi style! Well, I just can’t help it. This whole thing is so addictively delicious!’ he said.

Rupali laughed. ‘Addictive!’

She could clearly see Arjun’s madness about paranthas, so the adjective suited him. As a matter of fact, she sort of liked that childlike happiness in Arjun’s nature. She tried to relate this to the Arjun who had helped her fight against Mahajan.

‘Bangla Sahib gurudwara,’ Arjun said abruptly, breaking her thoughts.

‘Sorry. What?’

‘The place where you get the best prasad in Delhi, Bangla Sahib gurudwara,’ he repeated self-absorbedly.

Rupali slapped her forehead. She was amused at how he still hadn’t moved on from the topic of prasads. She found it difficult not to smile.

‘So you go to all religious places? I mean you believe in all religions?’ she asked curiously.

But Arjun had just stuffed yet another bite into his mouth. Bite by bite both the paranthas had vanished from Arjun’s plate. What was left on his butter-coated plate were bits of cauliflower, onions and coriander. They were next on his radar. He stuck his finger on them and licked them off too.

Rupali made a face.

‘We shouldn’t waste food!’ he said mischievously, looking completely satisfied and slumping back in his chair. ‘Shall I order tea for you now?’ he asked.

‘Yes!’

‘Great!’ Arjun said shouted,
‘Bhaiya do chai chahiye aur saath mein ek aur parantha.’
(Two teas and one parantha, please.)

‘One more? You are still hungry?’ This time Rupali was not so surprised. By now she had a fair idea of what a foodie Arjun was. A man who ranks temples as per the taste of their prasads!

‘See, unlike a potato or, for that matter, cheese, cauliflower is a seasonal vegetable. In the winter cauliflower tastes the best. So, since winters will only last for two or three months, it makes sense to eat as many as possible during this time,’ Arjun rationalized with his own crazy logic.

Even though she did not buy it, Rupali enjoyed what he was saying. Arjun continued and mentioned mooli and methi paranthas, which too were seasonal. Rupali was quite enlightened with Arjun’s expertise on the subject matter that went as deep as mentioning the niche ingredients that one could include in the mixture of various paranthas. Dry pomegranate seeds in aloo paranthas and the slight inclusion of freshly grated ginger in gobi paranthas could take the taste to a different level.

She was impressed. The breakfast back at her place in Bihar was never so rich and calorie-loaded. Not only had she enjoyed watching a man’s ‘addiction’ to paranthas, she had also found out that he had a fine knowledge of the recipes too!

A boy arrived with two glasses of steaming tea and another plate of food with some more butter, curd and pickle. Arjun carefully tore it into two halves to let the steam out.

‘Wow! This tea is actually nice,’ Rupali said at the first sip of her tea.

‘See, I told you, this dhaba is really good. You must try eating this as well,’ he said happily and shouted to repeat his order for tea, even before Rupali could say no.

Someone at the counter further shouted out to someone else to fulfil the order. It looked as if it was meant for a barely visible man hidden behind the steam in the makeshift kitchen. Immediately, Rupali stood up, looked at the counter and said embarrassedly,
‘Nahi bhaiya, nahi chahiye!’
(No, I don’t need any more!)

The counter guy again shouted at some barely visible man, this time to cancel the order.

Arjun laughed.

Rupali sat down and looked at Arjun. ‘I can’t eat one whole parantha, but can I take a bite from yours?’

Arjun looked at his messed-up plate with patches of curd here and there, and then at his butter-soaked fingers. He thought if he could have eaten like a gentleman instead of demonstrating and justifying his desi style to eat the desi food, he wouldn’t have been embarrassed. Now it was too late.

Rupali carefully broke a bite from the parantha where there was less butter and dipped it into the curd in which Arjun had dipped his fingers so many times.

And even though Arjun was embarrassed to let Rupali eat from his cluttered plate, he loved watching her eat like a lady. He was suddenly very conscious of her presence. Her face was glowing even in the semi-darkness of the room. Her features were delicate—neither too sharp nor too soft—gentle and light. As she ate, a strand of hair fell on her face. She quickly tucked it behind her ear, but now it was shining with oiliness. Arjun kept staring at her. He could feel himself getting attracted to her. She wasn’t like any other girl he had known.

Rupali nodded looking at Arjun, appreciating the taste, ‘This is good!’

‘
Haina
, amazing!’ Arjun said, coming out of his thoughts. Rupali took another sip of tea from her glass and stared at the leftover parantha on Arjun’s plate. ‘Half–half?’ she asked in a delighted voice.

‘Just because it’s you!’ Arjun said, naughtily winking at her and happily sharing whatever was left on the plate.

After what appeared like an hour or so, the two of them finally came out of that place. While washing her hands outside with a jug of water, Rupali suddenly recalled something and shouted at Arjun who was paying at the counter.

‘Hey, you haven’t yet answered my religion waala question!’

When both of them were back on the street again, Arjun asked, ‘You wanted to know if I believe in all religions?’

Rupali nodded.

‘Actually, I don’t believe in God. I am an atheist,’ he clarified.

Rupali was shocked. ‘What? So you only go to temples and gurudwaras for free
ka
prasad?’ she probed.

The two of them continued to walk leisurely. They hadn’t planned where they were going next, so they unmindfully took the way back from where they had come—the temple.

‘Firstly, I don’t consider it free. Every time I go, I drop some money in the donation box. Even though I don’t believe in God, I cannot deny that I feel at peace whenever I come to such places. I have been to churches and mosques as well. Now there one doesn’t get to eat prasad. There is a different sort of peace I find at these places. Some sort of a calming effect, that I like experiencing. You see, I don’t believe in God, but I like these places.’ Arjun tried to explain and was sure that Rupali wouldn’t have got exactly what he wanted to say.

Rupali thought it was an interesting argument. Here was a man in front of her, who said he was an atheist, but loved frequenting every religious place. Deciding to carry forward that discussion and wanting to know more about Arjun’s thoughts—especially why he was an atheist—she asked him where the two of them were heading.

‘No idea, what about you?’ he asked and smiled. In his heart, he wanted her to say she wanted to be with him. And even though he had some plans for the day, he didn’t mind cancelling them for Rupali. He wanted to know her better.

‘No idea . . .’ she shook her head cutely.

‘Then let’s go and taste the best prasad! It will be fun. Have you visited Bangla Sahib gurudwara yet?’

Sixteen

‘So tell me, why don’t you believe in God?’

They were on board a metro heading towards central Delhi. Unable to find seats, the two of them stood next to each other on the crowded train. While Rupali had rested her back against a vertical bar, Arjun held on to the support hanging above him from the roof of the train.

‘In fact, to answer that question, let me first ask you. Why do you believe in God?’

Rupali couldn’t give an answer to the question. She had never felt the need to think about a reason to believe in God. It was strange and she only ended up saying, ‘Come on! So many people believe in God! If he was not there, why would so many people believe in him?’

‘Is that your answer? Because so many people believe in him, therefore you do too?’

Rupali hesitated. ‘Yes, that’s my reason, because ever since I was a kid, I have been told that there is a God. That’s who we pray to at home, and in the temples. Our history establishes this fact. Those ancient holy books in various religions state that there is a God,’ she said.

Arjun sighed and shook his head.

Rupali spoke again, ‘Okay! Can you dismiss the epics Ramayana and Mahabharata and also deny the presence of Gods in them who killed Kansa and Ravana?’

‘Well, a correction, Ms Rupali Sinha,’ Arjun said. ‘In my understanding, Ram and Krishna were avatars of God and not God themselves. Mohammed was a prophet. Guru Nanak was a guru. They all were messengers of one supreme God.’

‘So at least you agree that there exists one supreme God!’ Rupali felt she had won the argument. There was a smile on her face.

‘Well, I don’t deny that.’

‘Yes, so when you say you don’t deny, it means that you agree. Right?’ In her excitement she raised a finger at Arjun. She wanted to nail him down.

‘Not denying something doesn’t mean agreeing with that thing. It simply means not denying it,’ argued Arjun.

‘Now you are playing with words,’ she pouted sadly. Sensing that she had suddenly lost her enthusiasm, Arjun changed the discussion. ‘Okay, listen. Here are my thoughts. If you would have listened to me carefully, you would remember that I never said that God doesn’t exist. I only said that I don’t believe in him, which means even if he exists, I do not believe in him. See, I agree that there is something out there, some supreme power that is behind the creation of this universe. While some may call it God, to me it is a black box. I am not sure who or what exactly it is.’

Arjun’s point rekindled the interest in Rupali who now happily continued the discussion. Rupali appreciated the fact that Arjun’s disbelief in God was not baseless. Irrespective of whether or not he was right, he had a rationale to it. Two people could be equally good even when they may have completely opposite thought processes. Rupali now looked at Arjun with a lot of respect and she couldn’t deny she was enjoying his company.

After halting at one of the stations, the metro abruptly started with a massive jerk. Along with the others, Rupali too was thrown off and since she had only rested her back on the vertical bar and wasn’t holding on to a support, she was about to fall. To save herself, she reflexively held on to Arjun’s kurta
.

Rupali, whose first thought after recovering was how to deal with the awkwardness of coming so close to Arjun, tried to move away without looking into his eyes. Suddenly, the trained jerked to a halt again. But she hadn’t seen that coming. She was still holding on to Arjun’s kurta. Arjun tried to save her this time and, suddenly, the two of them heard a sound of something tearing. It was the chest pocket of Arjun’s kurta.

‘Oh no! I’m so sorry!’ she cried. But she was more embarrassed than sorry. All she wanted to do in that moment was hide her face and never see Arjun till the college opened again!

Arjun looked at his half-torn pocket. He looked at Rupali, whose hand was on her mouth.

‘Stop doing that and at least hold on to a support now!’ he said laughing.

She looked even more embarrassed.

‘Relax! It’s okay. You didn’t do that on purpose. See, it now complements my ripped jeans!’ He chuckled, showing her the patches and threads dangling from his designer jeans.

‘No, it’s not okay. It looks funny and this is entirely my mistake. And it’s bothering me a lot,’ she whined.

‘If it’s bothering you, don’t look at it.’

‘How do I not look at it? It is right on your chest. Every time I look at you, I look at what I have done,’ she answered.

‘Then don’t look at me.’

‘How do I not . . .’ and she stopped short of completing it.

Arjun looked at her and then walked away from her. She watched him interact with a few people who sat with their bulky office bags on their laps. She could make out that Arjun was asking them for something. One of them nodded and handed over something from his bag.

It was a stapler.

Arjun stapled his torn pocket.
‘Jugaad,’
he said with a smile. ‘Does it bother you now, madam?’

‘No,’ Rupali responded shyly. This caring gesture from Arjun touched her heart, yet again.

Later in the afternoon, the two of them sat in one corner of the sanctorum surrounding the
sarovar
(the holy pool) in the gurudwara. Before arriving there, both had performed
seva
(free services) in the
langar
(free community kitchen) hall. It was Rupali’s first time in a gurudwara. Arjun had shown her how in a gurudwara anyone could participate in offering services like storing and polishing the shoes of the visitors, or serving food in the langar or cleaning utensils or the gurudwara complex.

Rupali had joined Arjun in serving the langar and quite enjoyed it. Starting from letting her know that she should keep her head covered to showing her how to serve the chapattis, Arjun had quickly taught her everything. After a few rounds of serving, they ate together. All along, Arjun kept telling Rupali about all that he knew about Sikhism.

Finally, sitting at the edge of the sarovar, Rupali was teasing Arjun on how shamelessly he had taken the prasad for the third time. Arjun kept grinning as he ate the final serving of it with great pleasure.

They sat quietly and enjoyed the calmness of that place. For a while no one spoke anything.

‘For all that you do, you are so near to God and still you don’t believe in him,’ Rupali spoke.

Arjun didn’t feel the need to respond. He didn’t.

‘You do so much here that a God-fearing person like me wouldn’t have thought of doing till now.’

‘God-fearing?’ Arjun asked. ‘I thought you believed in him rather than fearing him.’

Rupali was quiet.

Without expecting her to react he said, ‘I don’t come here to connect with God. I come here because I feel at peace in this divine atmosphere. I like listening to an
azaan
in a mosque, inhaling the smell of incense in a temple, lighting a candle in a church, sitting by the side of a sarovar in a gurudwara. I feel good experiencing all this. That’s my only takeaway.’