The Last Time We Say Goodbye✅

CHAPTER 7

"It my have escaped your notice,  but life isn't fair" - Severus Snape. 

“What’s happening? Why does everyone seem to be panicking?” Tristan asked a brunette airhostess who responded miserably. “My favourite actress” the air hostess cried. Her eye makeup smeared with tears “My favourite actress”.

Tristan was coming out of the men’s toilet when he noticed several people checking their phones and talking in loud voices. It seemed like they were all discussing a common subject. He walked towards his seat. The plane was yet to take off so, many people were not seated on their seats instead, they had formed groups in twos, threes and fours to discuss. What are they discussing? He wondered, looking round the economy class he managed to get before it got filled, and realised majority of his fellow passengers were Indians.

Not up to four seconds from when he returned, someone sped into the room and said, “Staff room. Staff room. They’re showing it there”. And the various groups of twos, threes and more started running to the staff room as though their lives depended on it. If the plane was already airborne, and they were running like this, Tristan imagined that his first thought would be that the plane was on the verge of crashing and they were running to get parachutes to save dear life.

“Fire! Fire!”

Tristan’s heart jumped.

“Fire?” He asked the fifty years old Punjabi woman who was also returning to the economy class.

“Fire” She nodded. “Fire” She cried. “Staffroom. Staffroom”.

His heart sped. Was God already ready to punish him? He wasn’t a devout believer but, his heartbeat still sped all the same.

“Staffroom” the Punjabi woman repeated.

Nemesis couldn’t have caught up with him this fast. Besides, I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t kill anybody. And neither did I poison or set anyone on fire. So, no nemesis could be catching up with him, for just a mere car.

Another Indian woman raced into the room. And looked at the Punjabi woman he’d been talking to earlier, hugged her instantly and within a few seconds, started crying along with her.

What’s wrong with them? Tristan thought.

“Fire” the second woman who just came in wept, using her sari to wipe her cheeks.

“Don’t cry. We’re all humans after all, we’ve to die one day” the Punjabi woman consoled her friend.

Why were they discussing death so easily? She mentioned ‘fire’. And now, they were talking about ‘dying one day’. What’s happening? Were they trapped on the plane and fire had started at one corner he had not reached? If so, why had the smell of smoke not gotten to where he was?

The women were still hugging and then, one of them looked at Tristan as though trying to be sure that he was a human being with a heart.

“Haven’t you heard?” the woman said.

Tristan looked behind him. Was she talking to him? He faced her.

“Heard what?” He responded.

“Go to the staffroom. Fire” She said.

And once again, the Punjabi woman said, “stop crying, Aditi. We’re all bound to die someday”.

Now, that was what pushed him. He had to find out about this fire in the staffroom. After all, even the non-Indians like him, aboard the plane were also headed there to see what was happening. In less than a minute, he was at the staffroom. Many passengers were there. Most looked sad and it was obvious from their expressions that their tear glands were on the brink of exploding with a stream of tears. All these Indians. So even in real life, they were as dramatic as they acted in their movies. His mum was half-Indian, so as a little boy, he watched their movies, however, upon her death, he stopped watching. Banned it from his to-do-list as it reminded him so much of what he missed about his mother.

“What’s happening? Why is everyone watching the TV?” Tristan asked a girl in her early twenties beside him. “I love her so much. How could this happen to her? My best actress” the girl responded and sped away from Tristan in tears.

I knew it. Indians were dramatic. So, her best actress was the cause for her…

“Silence, please. Her aunt, Priyanka is talking”.

Priyanka. Tristan’s heart skipped for the second time on the plane. That was a name he never wanted to hear again. In fact, upon driving away from her neighbourhood, he believed that name had died from his soul. Then, someone pushed her way out of the horde in the room. “They said she’s going to die” the person said.

That was what propelled Tristan forward. Too many coincidences already. He’d to know what was happening. Why were people mentioning ‘fire’, ‘Priyanka’ and ‘dying’ all at once? Goosebumps clawed out from beneath the innermost layer of his skin. His mind shuddered. This case cannot be connected to him. Yet, like battle drums, his heart started pounding in his ears. He forced his way through the crowd. And soon, his eyes were on the TV. Isn’t this the woman he saw a few hours ago? But, it can’t be Priyanka Khanna. He thought. Why’d she die when she had been as wide awake as daybreak when the fire started?

“Everyone please kindly return to your seat. The plane is ready for take-off” the voice came through a loudspeaker. Nonetheless, Tristan’s feet remained where he was. He had to understand what was happening. He couldn’t leave without knowing why his action had put tears on the faces of tens of people. I just have to know. An Indian channel was showing. And they were reporting in Hindi. Moments like this, he was grateful to his mum who had been a polyglot and wanted him to be able to speak and comprehend multiple languages.

A clearer picture of Priyanka Khanna appeared on the screen.

Holy shit! His heart shivered.

She was speaking into a microphone. And behind her was her burning house.

The house you set on fire. His conscience told him.

Yet, I didn’t harm anyone! He fired back.

Priyanka Khanna was fine. Alive and well. Her car and house may be burnt but, she was alive. Hale and hearty. At that moment, he could’ve kissed the feet of Satan for not taking away the life of the woman who caused his uncle’s death. He breathed a sigh of relief. How could he have survived knowing he murdered someone? He grinned. Never has he been so thank… The smile on his face vanished as he heard the next words of the reporter, “ that was Priyanka Khanna, aunt of Bollywood star, Indira Kapoor who was badly burnt in the fire at her aunt’s place where she happened to visit for the holiday”.

This is not happening.

“It has been reported that Indira Kapoor is in a critical condition as a result of severe burns from the fire. And at this point, none of the doctors can determine if India’s nineteen years old sweetheart will survive or die from the gruesome injuries she sustained”.

“This is Vaneet Rachit reporting live from Mumbai”.

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