Love Circum-fended

Struggle But Survive

Gurus Of Peace by A R Rahman played as an uplifting chorus in the auditorium. Naveen stepped into the auditorium shoving the last tear from his eye. Shifting a pile of books to an empty table, he tried to keep his face calm, unabashed.

A vibrating thing in his pocket alerted him. Unwillingly, he took the thick metal-plated cuboid from his pocket and placed it on his left ear.

'Hello..?'

'Naveen.. Amma has returned home.. do you want to talk to her?' a benignant voice asked him.

'I am a little busy Aadhira.. I'll talk to her after a while..' he answered in a trice.

'Busy? Your slot is supposed to be at 4 pm right?' 

'It is' he muttered frustrated.

'Okay' she snapped at him and ended the call. 

On his right was a tall mirror, kept aside for the wood works happening in the washroom, at the tertiary corner of the auditorium.He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and noticed his red eyes.

The same features as his father. He felt like crashing his face onto a wall any moment. Suddenly, his phone vibrated again. It was a message this time.

It is what it is.

He looked away, as though he had already visualized the image of the message on the screen days back. Squeezing the ductile thing in his hand, he observed the silent red scar with a thin scab, on his left wrist showing up. The sleeves of his t-shirt slipped down burying the mark.

'Excuse me?' an upset feminine voice called out to him.

Naveen looked up at the woman standing in front of him, wearing a radiant white  kurta, holding a politics textbook in one hand and a five-hundred rupee roll in the other. He stood up instantly and folded his hands as he watched her eyes scan through the heap. 

After a while, her eyes went downcast. 

'Uhm.. where can I find the book 'Listening Is An Act Of Love'?' she asked 

'None here. You might find them at..' He scanned the volunteers' faces and stopped at one. 'That one, 11th table in that row'.

After her conventional thanks, he observed her inquire the volunteer. After a few seconds, she opened her bag and shoved in the five hundred rupee note. Naveen ran up to her.

'What happened? You didn't get it?' he asked.

She nodded her head with a frown. 

'Do you really need it?' he asked her with concern.

'My friend told me that she will share the book with me if I buy it for her. But now..'

'If you don't mind, I can give you one copy'

She looked at him surprisedly and apprehensively at the same time.

'I'll get you one if you really need it' he said.

After a moment of thought, she took out a half torn A4 sheet and a blue ball pen from her bag. 

'Your name and number?' she asked, to make note.

Naveen squirmed a bit. 

'Naveen. You can come meet me here tomorrow' he squinted his eyes slightly realizing how witless he sounded. Anjana felt his insecurity and gave in, considering her moral scruples, though with rancour.

'Fine, then.' She left the auditorium sans salutation. Her moral scruples did not seem strong enough to him. Yet, he decided to return the next day. He held the book in his hand as a train of thoughts passed him every minute.