On Saturdays she does not have practical classes; the final bell for her theory classes rings at 11.35 am. After that she is supposed to return home. But, does she come home straight? Where does she go? As it is the last day of the week, doesn’t she feel like spending a couple of hours somewhere? The way I tend to do something unusual like this at times; doesn’t Irene feel like doing likewise?
It is Saturday, I am going to follow her today. My guess is, she will come into view under the emblic myrobalan tree near the main gate at quarter to twelve. Every 19/20-year-old girl in the world does spend an additional 15/20 minutes during a normal parting session. Irene is 20. Why shouldn’t she fritter away 20 minutes on such activities?
But, it was seen that Irene did not take much time today. Within a few moments she crossed the college gate; she scanned the road for a rickshaw and finally, instead of heading homeward, got onto a rickshaw moving in exactly the opposite direction, along the road leading to the market.
I was sitting on an old scooter about ten metres from the college gate without being noticed by Irene. I was dressed in an old punjabi and a pair of matching loose trousers. Moreover, in order to prevent my face from being seen, I wore a full-mask helmet. To tell the truth, I was totally unaccustomed to such attire.
And yet, Irene was wearing a set of mind-blowing churidar-kameez. She looked like some totally unacquainted girl in that purple dress. The dupatta over her chest tended to become restless in a light breeze. The rattling of the rickshaw and the mischief of the wind started annoying her. I somewhat enjoyed the scene. Like a skilled artist I began to concentrate on her figure and the setting around her, as though for a moment I forgot about my relationship with her.
A speeding motorcycle coming from the opposite direction went past very close to my scooter. Two cyclists overtook me and went away, somewhat expressing their displeasure at my slow speed.
It is very difficult to follow a rickshaw on a scooter maintaining a particular distance. Even more difficult is for the pursuer to hide himself. On several occasions during that period, I felt the urge to smoke a cigarette. On many occasions I felt like overtaking her rickshaw. But actually, I did no such thing. I simply maintained a distance very carefully so that Irene would not notice me.
The people on the road somewhat displayed their busy schedule. A few college students coming to hang out during their off period, suddenly entered a restaurant. The hawkers got busy with the bundles of newspapers that came by the morning flight, right on the footpath. The traffic signal at the police point at the crossroads changed colour frequently. At the autorickshaw stand, the easy-going drivers dozed off in their autos. A few customers who approached them, turned away disappointed and began looking for other means of conveyence. In such a situation, Irene’s rickshaw stopped on the roadside very close to the autorickshaws. At once I hid myself in the parking lot on the ground floor of a multi-storeyed building nearby, along with my scooter.
I noticed that after dismissing the rickshaw-puller, she was heading for an aristocratic hotel. I trembled within, in an unknown fear. So many incidents could happen in these expensive hotels within just fifteen minutes! So many dealings took place in them within the night! What business did Irene have here?
I was alarmed and thought of shouting out to warn her. But, when a full-mask helmet is stuck to the head, calling out to someone is not possible. I removed the helmet and right at that moment noticed that Irene did not enter the hotel. Instead, entering the shop with a xerox machine just by the side of the hotel, she took out a bundle of papers from her bag. I waited at a cigarette shop nearby till she finished getting her papers xeroxed. Hurriedly having a few puffs at a cigarette, I wore my helmet again. Irene seemed to look in my direction once, but I guessed that she did not see me.
This time she was seen near a pharmacy. I clearly understood that she had taken out a prescription. I was worried again. Was she unwell? If she had any problem then definitely I should have known. Very earnestly I wished to know about the prescription. But I did not dare to come face-to-face with Irene. Of course, after she left the pharmacy I asked the salesman quite impatiently what medicine the girl who had just come, had bought. But, with a suspicious look he coolly ignored my question. I became quite hesitant. The next moment though, I realised that waiting like that would serve no purpose. It would be proper for me to follow Irene again as soon as possible.
For a while Irene went missing from the periphery of my sight. With much anxiety I looked in the cosmetic shops on the roadside, searched for her in a Chinese restaurant and after a few tense moments, suddenly discovered her inside a telephone booth. Concealing myself very tactfully, I tried to see the phone number that showed on an electronic machine. The number did not tally with any of the numbers that I was familiar with. Of course, after listening with my ears pricked I was convinced that she had not indulged in any dangerous conversation. I felt reassured for a while.
But after she came out of the telephone booth, a youth who got busy greeting her with words like ‘hi hello’, addressed her in a different name. I noticed Irene answering that greeting with a modest smile. The youth must have suggested a cup of coffee; it looked like Irene refused the offer on the pretext of constraint of time. I enjoyed the whole scene, covering my face and concealing myself with a newspaper. I also liked the fact that Irene was behaving like a mature girl.
Forty minutes had passed since I followed her. Sometimes I wore the helmet, sometimes I would get tired carrying it in my hand. But, could I think of going back just because of that? Today is a second Saturday. Since my office is closed I have ample time in hand. When I have the time I feel like doing many different things. On different days, under different situations I wish to observe Irene – the way she walks, her odd mannerisms, her mode of talking.
Today Irene’s performance has been very satisfactory. There has been no restlessness in her walk, no hesitation or doubt in the way she has talked. She has been carrying out her duties like a responsible girl. She has been behaving like an experienced girl. I am very happy. I am observing her like a satisfied pursuer.
Where would she go now? She was seen stopping suddenly in front of a private hospital named City Nursing Home. Would she enter the nursing home now? What business did she have here? I began to follow her again. I observed her walking along the long corridor and tapping lightly on the door of Room Number 8. At that moment I waited at another point of the corridor. Irene spent 15 minutes there and as soon as she left, I asked an attendant in the room who was standing, what relation they had with the girl who had just left.
“The girl is Ruby’s friend,” the attendant said indifferently.
“Who is Ruby?” I asked.
He answered quite politely: “The patient’s second daughter.”
I had never heard Irene mention that she had a friend by the name of Ruby. Of course, it was not necessary that I should know everything about her. I didn’t waste time there. Coming out of the nursing home at once I followed her. Would she return home now?
No, walking some distance and then covering the rest of the distance by a rickshaw, she entered the college campus again.
Why? Didn’t her classes end at 11:35 on Saturdays? Could be that her routine had changed. Could be that today there was some special occasion at college in which Irene’s presence was indispensable. I waited outside for a long time and finally at one point of time, getting tired of waiting, returned home.
My wife asked me: “Where have you been so long?”
I gave her a smile and said: “Your daughter is no longer a small girl. She can do a lot of things all by herself. She can buy her own medicines, go to the nursing home and enquire about the health of her friend’s ailing mother. It’s just for nothing that we worry about her.”
A little bit of pride certainly mingled with the satisfaction in my statement. A kind of joy of success did glow in my weary body.
My wife stared at me for some time. I noticed tears forming in her eyes. I asked: “What’s wrong? Why are you staring at me like that?”
This time she cried noisily and said in a choked voice: “What happens to you sometimes? Three years have passed since Irene died. Today again you followed some other girl. Why do you behave like that, hm?”
