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The gust of wind tugged at her hair and while she pushed away the strands whipping against her eyes, the sheaf of paper loosened from her grasp and took their turns at tossing and turning in small whirlwinds around her. She immediately went down on her haunches to pick them up and was struggling to collect them against the insolence of the blowing wind. She was slowly getting frustrated at her repeated attempts at gathering all the sheets being foiled when suddenly she felt a towering presence swooping down on his knees beside her. Without even knowing who she had for company at that juncture she felt a sense of relief. The papers were then quickly gathered without much of a struggle and finally Anjali could look up to see the face of the person who helped her in her pursuit. What she found was a man in his early thirties, neatly dressed in formals with a smile that had a quality of pleasantness and affability. Quickly mumbling her “Thank you” in return, she disappeared into the corridor.

Anjali Parekh was the English lecturer in St.John’s college for almost six months now and already the students loved her. She was not the usual ‘dry’ lecturer who went through her copious collection of notes in a hurry nor was she one amongst those who had no interest in her students. In one word she was ‘involved’ with her students in a constructive manner. Boys admired her for her candour as did girls for her aura of unstated strength .Her first day in college as lecturer cemented her place of pride within the students. She in reply to a jab at her dress made by one of the ‘usual ruffians’ in the class turned back and gave such a resounding and emphatic reply that jaws dropped and everyone knew she was a ‘no nonsense woman’. So, they listened to her with intent and approached her with caution. Same was the mood in the staff room too. She quickly made her presence felt all around although being polite and submissive in her approach throughout.

She stepped into the staff room after delivering one of her lectures on Byron when suddenly she realised the person sitting opposite to her was none but the man who had helped her gather the scattered sheaves of notes in the morning. She was about to say something in appreciation for his help and to explain her hasty exit when Prof. Sharma interjected, “Anjali, this is our new Professor of History, Mr. Druv Pathak. He has just joined today.” He introduced Anjali with glowing remarks which embarrassed her no ends. Then he asked her, “Would you be kind enough to show Prof. Pathak around? He was my colleague in Janakilal College, so we happen to share a long association. Would you mind?” Anjali readily agreed to the proposition and escorted Druv to the class room where he was scheduled to deliver his first lecture.On their way Anjali felt his constant gaze on her and as was her nature withdrew into her private domains of coy temerity. Meanwhile she also noticed the unusual look of jaded expense on the face of Druv and somehow felt strange. At the entrance of the class room she said, “Here is your class room for the first lecture for the day Prof. Pathak. I will take your leave now. Good luck.” She was about to turn to leave when she heard him say, “Call me Druv. Will you Anjali? I am sorry but, can I call you by your first name?” A little startled by such forthcomingness she somehow managed a whispered “Sure.”

All her way back she debated the kind of person Druv was like and atlast decided to drop the issue from her head when she realised its triviality. Still a feeling of inexplicable buoyancy lingered in her heart without much of her consent or will.

It was almost dusk when Anjali stepped out of the college gate to board the usual bus to her place when she realised the person standing next to him was none other than Druv. He was talking on the phone unaware of the fact that Anjali stood right in front of him. After a while when he realised her presence he promptly went up to her asked her if she went back home everyday by the same route. “Do you mind having a cup of tea with me, Anjali?” Anjali, both anxious and unsure could not think of an answer when she found to her utter surprise Druv rushing her into a bus. She boarded the bus and found relief in the fact that the bus would take her to her home too. She enquired where he lived and discovered that it was not too long from her home even on foot. “A brisk walk of five odd minutes” she thought to herself “and I would be home in no time.” On disembarking from the bus she saw Druv’s flat to be in a neat locality dotted by gardens. On entering the flat she found it to be in a state of utter disarray, a sign of house without a proper manager to it. Then out of nowhere a small kid of about six years old rushed into Druv’s arms calling “Daddy, why are you so late today? I came back from school a long time ago and Seema didi is not ready to play with me ......” A young girl came out of one room and took the child by his hand inside to finish his unfinished plate of rice . The child struggled and refused and it was only on his father’s persistence that he agreed to finish his food. He was chubby and sweet and teeming with life and vitality. She noticed another unique thing about the child. He had a gurgling laughter which was loud and hearty yet soothing to the ears as it rang with the sincerity of innocence. Druv turned back to her and said in a hushed tone, “That’s my son, Vipul.He lost his mother at his birth and...”A sudden surge of emotion seemed to choke him completely before he again regained his composure to complete his sentence. “And now he is going to lose his father too.” The impact of these heart rending words and a contemptuous smirk that accompanied such devastating a news plunged Anjali into an unfathomable whirlpool of incoherent emotions.Druv tried to diffuse the situation by small talk and levity as he immediately realised what his careless revelation had done to his ‘one day old colleague’ .Anjali could stand no more of this staged drama and asked Druv “What is it with you? Are you ill?” He said that he had cancer in his lymphatic system which was incurable.While she left the house she saw Vipul run to his father’s arms and through the closed door behind her she heard his gurgling laughter. She could not stand the pain she felt and she rushed out in uncontrollable tears welling down her chin. She cursed Druv for the agony he had inflicted on her in a single day’s acquaintance.

* * * * *

The door bell rang with a touch of impudence. Anjali woke up to the present from her reminiscence of the past and opened the door. As soon as she unlatched the door a sporadic entry of young feet inside the house greeted her. Within no time the whole house was resonating with bursts of laughter coming from the other room. Anjali sat down to have her cup of evening tea when a sudden surge of gurgling laughter distracted her. And its element of inherent innocence gave her a sense of joy which was amazingly both painful and triumphant. She sipped her cup of tea and looked up at the two framed photos on her drawing room wall with a smirk which meant a lot, only to her.

THE END.