Your Dreams Are Mine Now (5 page)

Behind a wide serving area at the counter sat Shafi, the owner, who was known for his jolly nature. It wasn’t just a teashop. For anything, the painted red sections on the otherwise white walls of the shop advertised the branding of Coca-Cola. Stacks of crates with empty cold drink bottles along with two fridges full of sealed bottles stood next to each other just outside the shop. The shop served all sorts of packaged snacks and offered a limited variety of evening snacks like samosas and pakodas. Yet, the shop was called a teashop, for the special masala tea it served. Even students from other colleges which were not in the immediate vicinity of the shop would turn up at Shafi’s to sip a cup of this speciality. Shafi took great pride in telling the world that he used some unique herbs in his tea. When his customers enquired about the same, he would take similar pride in telling them that it was his trade secret. Not that he hadn’t ever revealed it to anyone. Till not so long back he used to do so. But he stopped telling people the day he learnt that even the makers of Coca-Cola that he sold, did not share their trade secret.

People humoured Shafi’s pride in his concoction for the good-natured guy that he was. They didn’t bother him much as long as they were assured that he wasn’t using any drug in his tea. To add to the aesthetics of Shafi’s teashop was a huge banyan tree rooted only a few feet away from his shop, with its magnificent branches spreading out in various directions over his shop. Shafi had intelligently placed two dozen fibre chairs and a couple of tables under the shade of that banyan, thereby making it a perfect hangout for students.

The meeting that evening at Shafi’s teashop wasn’t planned. It was Tenzing’s idea to bring everyone there. He wanted to use the opportunity to talk to everyone and calm them down.

Apart from being the leading member of the music club at college, Tenzing was also the head of the cultural club at the university. He felt it was his responsibility to clarify the matter.

‘Please listen to me guys,’ he said addressing the group.

Tenzing updated the first year students that a year before, their music club had performed in an event organized by the present party in power in the students’ union. Back then, that party was not in power. The music club was not aware that the leaders of that party wanted to gather the crowd through a music event and later make their appeal for vote to them. The club was never into any election gimmick and had always stayed away from political equations. But the party had managed to keep them in the dark till the very end of the show. They were told that the event was meant to raise a voice in favour of improving student life on campus. It was about implementing new ideas that the students wanted to introduce and to do away with the administration’s outdated policies. In all, it was an event meant to make some noise in the deaf ears of university administration. Tenzing and his team were promised that it wouldn’t be political activity in any way. But once they had performed and the crowd cheered for them and against the DU authorities, the present leading party broke its promise. They announced that the band favoured their party and appealed to the crowd to vote for them. The very next day the music club had officially denied the allegations of supporting their political party, or for that matter supporting any party in DU. But the damage was already done. In the next few weeks, the party played various populist games and came to power after the elections were held.

Unfortunately, the party that got voted out never believed their clarifications. Their members continued to think that the music club was the prime cause for their defeat, or at least, that it all started from the show it had performed. The impact of their performance on the elections was high because of the clean image of the members of the music club and the issues which they had stood for in the past.

‘The guys who vandalized the set-up today, are people from that very party that was voted out,’ Tenzing said.

As he finished, Tenzing kept the empty glass of tea back on the table. He looked at the faces around him. Everyone was listening to his story with keen interest. For the present members of the club, it was an unpleasant walk down memory lane. Something they wished they could undo.

‘So does that give them the right to vandalize things whenever they want? Can’t we complain against them?’ the guy who was supposed to play the congo asked.

Tenzing looked at him and thought for a second before he spoke again. ‘We can. But this time we had unintentionally provided them the opportunity to do so.’

No one understood what Tenzing meant when he said that. So he clarified, ‘Actually, we have a dedicated music room. And we are supposed to practise in that room only. To perform anywhere on campus we need to take official permission, something that we didn’t do this time. The voltage has been fluctuating in the music room for the past few weeks. Two of our electronic guitars have gone bad and the adapter of the keyboards is dead because of this fluctuation. The administration was supposed to fix the issue but as usual the music room isn’t their priority. Taking permission to practise in a different place is a long process and the department generally doesn’t allow this. Else, we would have this audition in the first week of the new session itself.’

‘But then we had also assumed that the department would fix the electrical mess in the music room, which they didn’t till the last day, despite our requests. With no choice left, we thought of using one of the classroom after college hours. Moreover, the party members who destroyed our set-up today had been lying low for a long time. So we thought we could go ahead without fear.’

Tenzing paused for a moment and continued ‘. . . that plan now has gone for a toss. Those guys must have somehow found out that we hadn’t taken permission.’ As he sighed at their lapse in judgement he felt a hand on his shoulder.

‘
Chal koi na yaar!
Never mind. These things happen.’ It was Sheetal patting his shoulder, trying to cheer him up.

A moment of silence passed. People took their time to digest the logic behind what had happened. It still appeared illogical that anyone could come and damage things just like that. Some of them sipped the tea slowly, thinking about it all. Some of them hung their heads in disappointment. Some played with the empty tea glasses between their hands on the table and kept staring at them.

‘So what do we do now? Can’t we take the help of the party that is at present in power? After all, even though it was unintentional from the music club’s side, the club is an important reason behind their coming to power. They will surely help us.’ This was Rupali who’d thought a lot about this.

‘That’s not an option for us. As a cultural club we have clearly protested against the ruling party’s actions last year. If we reach out to them, it will only justify what they had been claiming till now—that we sang for them. We don’t want to make this political again,’ Sheetal said.

Tenzing then got up and announced, ‘We will meet after a week. Meanwhile, I will seek permission from the administration to issue us a specific place to practise.’

‘Alright, then! Now let’s change the topic and talk about something else,’ Sheetal offered and a few people smiled.

‘I agree, how about another round of tea, guys?’ Tenzing raised his empty glass.

‘
Kya baat hai,
Tenzing!
Another round of tea for the juniors!’ Harpreet teased him.

‘And Shafi bhai, samosas only for Harpreet!’ Tenzing shouted, looking towards the teashop counter.

Harpreet looked confused, wondering why Tenzing was being so nice to him.

‘You are going to repair the broken instruments, na!’ Tenzing chuckled.

Everyone laughed as Harpreet made a face.

With that everyone began chatting amongst themselves. While the juniors talked about their personal backgrounds, the members of the music club shared their insights from their college and campus so far. They told stories about a few interesting musical nights that they had hosted in the past and the awards that they had bagged in inter-college competitions.

Sheetal mentioned a few funny events from her memory of previous year’s annual festival at the university level. With great joy Harpreet narrated how Tenzing was in the middle of singing a patriotic song when he received an electric shock from his mike on stage. Instantly, he ended up saying ‘O
Bhen
_****
’ on his mike. Everyone heard him and the whole patriotic mood went for a toss. The crowd whistled and shouted—‘Once more! Once more!’

Listening to that, laughter erupted all around the tables outside Shafi’s teashop. It lightened the mood. Rupali felt a bit awkward at that, but Sheetal’s joyful presence next to her helped. Soon the samosas arrived, not just for Harpreet, but for everyone.

That evening the group didn’t play any music, but a new bond developed on the grounds of a common interest— music. The auditions appeared to be a mere formality now. Rupali would be in the group for sure. As the only girl who had appeared for the audition, she turned out to be the right replacement for Sheetal, who was going to pass out of DU the same year.

But amidst all this, Rupali was thinking about something else; rather someone else. It was a face that had looked familiar. The face she had seen among those who had gatecrashed and disrupted the auditions. He hadn’t stepped inside the class, but had stood at the entrance, his arms folded across his chest, just like the other day. Just when they were all stepping out of the vandalized classroom, she had tried to recall that face. And when she succeeded in doing so, it came as a shock—he was the same guy who had interrogated her on the evening when she had been planting the sapling.

Five

‘What are you saying?’ Rupali asked Saloni in sheer disbelief.

It was late in the night and as usual the two roommates were busy gossiping. Their chat sessions had started almost a month ago and, while Saloni would often transform their midnight talk into bitching sessions, Rupali would sit listening carefully. Most times, Rupali wasn’t too bothered about what she heard but she enjoyed being with Saloni and having a friend to talk to. For Saloni there was the satisfaction of talking her heart out and sharing what was on her mind with someone who she knew to be a sensible girl—the kind didn’t exist in her own social group.

But it wasn’t that Saloni thought of Rupali as only a good friend and a mature girl whom she could trust. There had been times when Saloni had also helped Rupali.

Improving Rupali’s style quotient and making her more fashionable was always on Saloni’s to-do list.

‘I swear to change your typical
behenji
-type fashion sense into a cosmopolitan one. And if I do not, you can change my name,’ Saloni had claimed and she made sure she stuck to her words. There was rarely a day on which she did not advise Rupali on what to take off and what to try on. Saloni, who was usually possessive about all her belongings, was generous with Rupali. She would often encourage her friend to wear her accessories, in spite of several refusals from Rupali. As much as Rupali appreciated her roommate’s gesture, she was embarrassed on certain occasions, especially when Saloni would change her clothes in front of her. Rupali would turn her head to give Saloni the privacy that she never asked for. Saloni was a confident and bold girl who did not have any problems in undressing in front of her roommate. On one occasion, when, after taking a bath, Saloni entered the room and threw aside her wet towel, she had especially asked for her roommate’s attention.

‘See, I bought this polka-dotted bra for myself. Isn’t it sexy?’ she had said while trying to hook it on.

Rupali had to battle her sense of shame to look at her roommate’s bra and appreciate it. But gradually, she learnt to adjust to hostel life.

At times, Rupali found it extremely difficult to accept Saloni’s idea of westernizing someone who had lived all her life in the desi attire of salwar kameez. Not that she had anything against western clothes like jeans and skirts, but she felt uncomfortable in these clothes. Though, she had to admit to herself, sometimes she wished to try them on. However, she would also wonder about what her parents would think if they saw her in short skirts. Rupali’s battle between her wishes and fears was an interesting and challenging space for Saloni to invade and influence.

But come midnight and Saloni wasn’t her style coach any more. Instead, she expected her friend to react to her anecdotes from the day.

‘Really? You brought him here?’ Rupali exclaimed, double-checking if what she had heard moments before was correct.

‘Shhhhh!’ Saloni hushed, placing her finger on her lips, her eyes wide open. Then she looked at the door in order to make sure that it was locked from inside.

Rupali tried to control her reaction. She asked again, but this time in a soft yet suspicious voice. ‘You brought Imran here, to THIS room?’

Saloni nodded, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she smiled proudly, almost as if she was expecting a pat on her back from her roommate for her bravery. After all, she had sneaked in a boy to the girls’ hostel, that too in broad daylight!

Rupali held her head in dismay. She immediately looked around her, wondering what all Imran would have seen in the room that was personal to her.

‘How come you . . .’ Rupali hadn’t even completed her protest, when Saloni cut her off midway and said, ‘Don’t worry, as usual your portion of the room was neat and tidy and nothing was out. So Imran didn’t see anything. In any case he was more interested in me than in your stuff. Okay?’

Rupali wasn’t convinced. She looked worried.

‘Teri itni phatt ti kyun hai yaar?’
(Why do you get so scared?) Saloni tried to comfort her in her own way.

Rupali didn’t know what to say. She was just not comfortable with having a boy in her room, that’s it.
Why could Saloni not understand that!

‘Hello! Madam! I am having an affair. Not you! So don’t be worried about anything. Chill!’ In her excitement Saloni got up from her chair and shifted onto her bed. She sat cross-legged. She was overjoyed to reveal all that had happened after she’d secretly sneaked Imran into their room. She had expected Rupali to say, ‘Oh my God! Really? How did you do that? Teach me also, na!’ But all she got was silence.