The Accidental Apprentice (36 page)

There has been no word from the industrialist for over a month now. Perhaps he is still devising the seventh test. The Seventh Test. The moment I think about it, I am gripped by the sudden conviction that it may have already begun. Acharya said it will be the hardest of them all. What if he stage-managed that confrontation with Raja Gulati, prepared yet another crisis for me?

I feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead. Did I do the right thing in quitting in a huff? The stakes are so high that to fail now would be catastrophic.

In desperation I turn to the Katzenberg guide, quickly flipping open to Chapter 27. It's called, ‘Secret Number 25: How to Handle a Crisis.'

*   *   *

Neha is strutting about the drawing room in stiletto heels, hips swinging out like a model on a catwalk, when I reach home.

‘What's got into her?' I ask Ma.

‘Didn't Neha tell you?' Ma says, handing me an envelope. ‘This arrived today.'

The envelope contains a letter from Nova Talent Management, an agency based in Mumbai, offering Neha a modelling contract.

‘You know what this means, don't you,
didi?
' Neha drapes her arms around my neck in an overly affectionate gesture. ‘It means I've finally found my true calling. Now you'll see how I make my mark in the world.'

‘Are you sure this is a reputable agency?' I ask, disengaging her hands.

‘One of the best. They even have an arrangement with Ford Models in New York. They say I could be walking the ramp as early as next month for Delhi Couture Week,' she exults. ‘And they think I'm a shoo-in for the Miss India contest as well.'

I cannot prevent a look of chagrin from sweeping across my face. I have just lost my job, and Neha has landed an impressive contract. Of late the equation between me and my sister has become a zero-sum game. Every misfortune that befalls me seems to be accompanied by a corresponding bonanza for Neha.

‘And what about your studies?' I enquire coldly.

‘Who cares about the BA exams?' Neha says dismissively. ‘Once I become a model I can always do a correspondence course.'

*   *   *

After dinner, I concentrate on Chapter 27 again, but Neha keeps distracting me, circling around me like a cat eager for my attention, till I can't take it any more. ‘What is it now?' I demand, my voice thick with irritation.

She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, her eyes flashing with indolent impertinence. ‘How come you don't go down to the garden any more?'

‘Why? Is it compulsory to take a stroll after dinner?'

‘Karan says you've started acting very coldly towards him.'

‘I don't care what he says.'

‘He wanted me to tell you he's leaving the colony.'

‘That's good riddance.'

‘You are being really ungrateful.'

‘Ungrateful? You have some nerve calling me ungrateful after what you've been doing with Karan.'

Neha stiffens. ‘And what exactly do you mean by that,
didi
?'

‘Don't pretend you don't know anything,' I reply, the sarcasm in my voice now turning to anger.

‘I really don't understand what you are hinting at,' says Neha, still pretending to be a lost little girl.

All my pent-up hurt and bitterness comes exploding out. ‘You have been carrying on with Karan behind my back. Both of you have been taking me for a ride.'

She gapes at me, momentarily stunned. Her shock looks genuine enough, before it is replaced by a determined bellicosity. ‘You had better explain yourself,
didi,
' she demands, a classic case of the red-handed thief challenging the inspector.

‘I've seen pictures of the two of you in this very room.'

‘Pictures? What pictures?'

‘Drop the pretence. Did you or did you not kiss Karan right here, standing next to the window?'

‘Oh, that!' She looks down, and a tinge of regret crosses her face at last. ‘I confess I shouldn't have done it. Don't read too much into it. I'm not in love with Karan or anything like that. He's reserved only for you. It's just that I was so grateful, I did it out of impulse. It was nothing more than a thank-you kiss.'

‘A thank-you kiss? Thank-you for what?'

‘I shouldn't be telling you this, but it was Karan who lent me those two lakhs for the kidney transplant.'

‘What?'

‘Yes, it's true. All my friends had failed me. In desperation I turned to Karan for help. He was amazing. First he went to Dr Nath and offered his own kidney for Ma, but his crossmatch came out positive. Then the poor fellow sold off half his belongings and took a loan from his office to put together all that money. I wanted to tell you, but he forbade me. We can never repay the debt we owe him. I tell you,
didi,
you are the luckiest person in the world to have a friend—'

I don't wait for her to finish. I rush out of the apartment and race up the stairs to the third floor, my mind roiling with self-hatred and shame. I have wronged Karan grievously and nothing can ever make it right.

I knock on the door of B-35 like a storm-wrecked traveller seeking refuge for the night. The door does not open for such a long time that I almost lose hope. My heart sinks with the realisation that Karan has gone for ever.

Just as I am about to turn away in abject despair, a latch is pulled and Karan's face peeps out. ‘Yes?' He stands with his hands on his hips, looking at me warily, like a stranger meeting another stranger.

‘I came to ask your forgiveness,' I murmur.

‘Forgiveness for what?'

‘For treating you like dirt, after all that you did for us. Neha has told me everything.'

He keeps looking at me in silent judgement. I hold my breath, waiting, steeling myself for an explosion of righteous fury, when suddenly he holds out his right palm.

I gape at him, completely nonplussed.

‘Salvation is free,
balika,
but a hundred-rupee donation would help,' he intones with the gravitas of a guru pontificating on Aastha channel. Then he breaks into a loud guffaw and opens his arms to me, like an impenetrable fortress opening its doors.

His laughter is medicine to my heart. I tumble into his waiting embrace. Just feeling his manly chest pressed against me fills me with such joy and peace that I forget everything else. Tears begin flowing from my eyes, melting away the pain, the shame, the frozen icicles of guilt clinging to the jagged edges of my soul.

Karan had forgiven me. Things were going to be right between us. And that was all that mattered to me.

*   *   *

We have a more extended meeting later that night, in the garden. I tell him everything that has transpired between me and Acharya.

‘My God!' He listens to me with growing astonishment. ‘So it was all a setup, just as I suspected all along.'

‘Yes,' I reply with an embarrassed smile. ‘I was the heroine of a private soap opera conceived and directed by Acharya.'

‘That man deserves to be shot! He had been keeping you and your entire family under surveillance. He even tried to put a detective on my trail but I caught that bastard snooping around and thrashed him so much he dare not come near me again.'

‘Acharya mentioned it to me. Anyway, it will all end soon. I have a gut feeling the seventh and final test has begun.'

Karan's eyebrows knit together in a puzzled frown. ‘Do you mean to tell me that, after all this, you've still not put an end to Acharya's charade?'

‘Now that I've come so far, why not see it through to the end?'

‘How could you?' He slaps the wooden bench in frustration. ‘You still believe that psycho is serious about making you his CEO?'

‘Look, he's not a psycho. He's an old man desperate for a successor. And he feels I have the qualities to lead his company.'

‘He's mad!'

‘But he's not malicious. He believes in certain values.'

‘Then
you're
mad.' He glares balefully at me. ‘I didn't know you were so desperate for money.'

‘I'm not!' I say forcefully, surprised at my own vehemence. ‘Man does not live by bread alone. Ordinary lives, at times, need the spark of the extraordinary. We need awe, we need wonder, we need hope. Even if Acharya's offer remains a dream, I'm happy he showed it to me.'

‘Perhaps you are right,' he says slowly. ‘We all need that something extra in our lives. Anyway, it's your life and you are the best judge of what to do. I just want you to be happy.'

Our eyes lock and a strange sensation washes over me. I can sense the dawn of a softer understanding between us, a new compact forged in the crucible of heartache and reconciliation.

Maybe it is the full moon, maybe it is something in the air, the cool breeze that has suddenly sucked out the humidity like a blotter, but I am overcome with a desperate, irresistible urge to kiss him. Even though we are sitting a foot apart on the bench, I can feel the heat of his body on my skin, awakening an answering heat in me, a desire so powerful that it is almost lust. My palms become slick with sweat, my breath becomes ragged.

I think Karan senses the feverish signals being emitted by my body, for he changes the subject abruptly. ‘Did Neha tell you about my leaving the colony?'

‘Yes.' I nod. ‘Is it true?'

‘It's not the whole truth. I'm not just leaving the colony: I'm leaving the country.'

‘Leaving India? But … but why?'

‘There's no dearth of ambition in India, Sapna,' he says, looking straight ahead. ‘What there
is
a shortage of is opportunity. So I've decided to go to the
land
of opportunity. America.'

‘America? But this is so sudden!' I respond with the shell-shocked look of someone who has run face first into a wall.

‘There's this friend of mine in California who called me up out of the blue with this fantastic job offer. It's too good an opportunity to pass up.'

‘You are making a mistake. The whole world is coming to India and you want to go in the opposite direction?'

He gives a bitter laugh. ‘Let me tell you something, Sapna. For people like us there's no future in this country. Only the very rich and the very poor know how to survive in India. Nobody cares for the rest. We aren't even needed at voting time.'

I feel as if an icy claw has gripped my heart. My mind screams, Don't go, I love you, I'll die without you. But what actually comes out of my lips is, ‘And when exactly do you leave?'

‘Tomorrow. I've already got the visa. My flight leaves at eight forty-five a.m.' He pauses and draws a deep breath. ‘Now that I'm leaving, I want to tell you something.'

The way he gazes at me with his brown, dreamy eyes, the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, I think he's going to say something special, sentimental even. My cheeks heat up in a blush with the intuitive perception that our courtship is reaching a climactic moment. Karan is finally getting ready to open that black box, reveal his true feelings about me. A million emotions stir inside me. I wait for him to say those three magical words I've been yearning to hear for so long.

His lips quiver, but the three words that tumble out are very different from what I was hoping for: ‘I am gay.'

I'm about to poke him in the ribs for trying to be facetious, when the tortured grimace on his face stills me. It's an instinctive confirmation that he's telling the truth, and I can see how much anguish it has caused him.

In a way it explains everything: his strange reluctance to enter into a serious relationship with me, his inexplicable failure to return my kiss, his secretive lifestyle, his decision to escape India. And yet it is so unexpected that it leaves me reeling.

I have nothing against gays. They are some of the nicest people in the world, wonderfully kind and caring, sensitive, loyal and selfless. But somehow Karan's turning out to be gay seems like a cruel joke on me. I gnash my teeth at the unfairness of it all. It is not the outrage of a bigot, but the frustration of a jilted lover unable to come to terms with reality.

‘I hope we can still be friends,' Karan mumbles in a tone of meek disgrace, shrinking into himself. He seems so fragile right now, I fear one wrong word might break him completely.

My heart goes out to him. ‘Of course you will always remain my friend, my best friend,' I say, squeezing his hand tightly. But, even as I comfort him, I can sense a new distance between us. It's as if suddenly the earth had parted and put us on different ends. The thought looping like a mantra in my mind is that Karan is no longer mine. Perhaps he never was.

The silence between us lengthens, becomes awkward.

‘Well, good luck with your new life,' I say with a forced smile. Then I turn around and head straight back to my apartment.

I enter my bedroom and bury my face in the pillow, muffling the sobs that threaten to engulf me in a tide of sadness. Every dream of mine has had Karan in it, and suddenly all those dreams have been crushed, pulverised to dust. I gained Karan only to lose him for ever.

*   *   *

Karan leaves for the airport promptly at 5.45 a.m. I watch him from the balcony as he lugs a battered suitcase to the gate, dressed in a white T-shirt emblazoned with the Indus logo and scuffed jeans. Dhiman Singh, the colony's guard, has already hailed an auto-rickshaw for him. Karan gets into the back seat without as much as a backward glance. But, just as the auto is about to drive off, he leans out and looks up, searching the second-floor balcony of B-Block. He sees me, and raises his right hand in a tentative gesture of salutation-cum-apology, before he is jerked back by the auto lurching onto the road.

I stand watching the departing auto till it vanishes in the dusty distance. Just as I watched Nirmala Ben leave the colony a month ago. One by one, my friends are deserting me, leaving for greener pastures.