Revolution Twenty20 Read online

  ‘Who is your team?’ the reporter asked him.

  ‘Well, we are a small newspaper called Revolution 2020. There are four of us, including me. We don’t have much experience but we are passionate about our work.’

  ‘What are you passionate about?’

  ‘Making a difference. Changing India for the better. That is what we live for,’ Raghav said.

  ‘Is it true that you believe India will have a revolution in the year 2020?’

  ‘Yes, but we all have to work towards it and make sacrifices for it.’

  ‘What exactly will the revolution be for?’

  ‘A society where truth, justice and equality are respected more than power. Such societies progress the most.’

  ‘Can you explain that?’

  ‘Power-driven societies resemble animal societies. “Might is right” is the rule of the jungle and applies to beasts. And beasts do not progress, humans do.’

  I turned off the TV. I couldn’t take his bullshit anymore. Neither could Shukla’s men.

  Nitesh, one of the party workers, called me in the morning.

  ‘You smashed what?’ I said on the phone.

  ‘His only computer is in pieces. We took hammers and broke the printing press too.’

  ‘Nobody saw you?’

  ‘We went at night. Ransacked the office. Bastard. He’s finished.’

  I got ready for work. I saw the Mercedes parked outside. I had a less than 300-yard commute to the office. Yet, I wanted to go in my new car.

  I thought about Raghav. After yesterday’s bravado and all that attention, a plundered office was all he was left with.

  He had no job, no business and soon nobody would give a fuck about his paper after this story died.

  ‘Where, sir?’ the driver said.

  ‘Office,’ I said.

  I made up dialogues to say to Raghav in my head.

  ‘The average-looking dumb Gopal Mishra, the boy you had preached to, saying, “you can try again next year”, is sitting in a Mercedes. You have a broken printing press. And you think you are handsome, right? Well, soon I will make your girlfriend mine. The girl you stole from me.’

  ‘Sir,’ the driver prompted. We had reached office.

  I entered my office. I sank into the leather chair and closed my eyes. I visualised Raghav’s face when I told him, ‘Aarti is with me.’ It would be amazing. I had planned it all. I would go to his office. I would drop the Mercedes keys on his table. I even had some lines ready.

  ‘Sometimes losers get ahead in life. Never forget that,’ I said out loud, to practise for D-day.

  I still didn’t have the right lines to break the news about Aarti being mine. I decided to try a couple of them.

  ‘Buddy, I am sorry to say this but Aarti is mine,’ I mumbled.

  That didn’t sound manly enough.

  ‘Aarti and I are a couple. Just wanted you to know,’ I tried a casual one. Couldn’t quite pull it off.

  How do you come up with a suitable sentence to convey something you have meant to say for years? I wanted my words to bomb-blast him, to hit him like a lethal weapon. I wanted him to know that he had made me feel inadequate all my life. I wanted him to burn with jealousy seeing my car, my life, and hurt like hell for losing the girl he stole from me. I wanted to tell him ‘I am better than you, asshole,’ without actually saying it.

  Aarti’s call disrupted my thoughts.

  ‘They attacked his office,’ she said, her voice disturbed.

  ‘Oh, really?’ I acted surprised.

  ‘Revolution 2020 can’t be published. The press is broken,’ she said.

  I scanned the files on my desk. I didn’t care if the stupid rag came out or not.

  ‘You there?’ Aarti said.

  ‘MLA Shukla could be jailed,’ I said.

  ‘He should, isn’t it? He stole money and dirtied the river.’

  ‘Are you on his side or mine?’ I said to Aarti, irritated.

  ‘What? How is this about sides?’ she said.

  ‘Are you with me?’ I said.

  ‘Huh?’ she said.

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yes. But shouldn’t we wait to tell Raghav till he settles down?’

  ‘Will he ever settle down?’ I said.

  She went quiet.

  ‘Come home,’ I said.

  ‘Your place?’ she said. ‘You are finally showing me your new home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tomorrow? I have a morning shift, will be done by three.’

  ‘I’ll send my car,’ I said.

  I kept one eye on the TV and another on the porch as I waited for the Mercedes to arrive with Aarti. The afternoon rain had slowed down traffic, and the car took longer than it should have. Images of Shukla-ji’s arrest flickered on TV.

  ‘I have done no wrong. I will be out soon,’ he proclaimed on one of the channels. He had pre-empted his own arrest to win some public sympathy. He had called me before going to jail. He seemed relaxed. Perhaps he had cut a deal with the party. Or maybe he didn’t realise that the party had made him the fall-guy.

  ‘It’s not so bad. If I pay, jail is like a hotel,’ he had told me.

  I saw the black car approach. My heart beating fast, I rushed out.

  34

  She stepped out of the car. She had come in her work sari.

  ‘Wow, you have a bungalow?’ she said. It’s not “mine”, it’s “ours”, I wanted to tell her, but didn’t.

  She hugged me but looked serious.

  ‘All good?’ I said.

  ‘Raghav’s exposé has created complete chaos. Even my family has been affected,’ she said.

  ‘What happened?’ I said. ‘But what is this, first come in!’

  She came in and stepped on the new silk carpet I had laid out in her honour. She saw the huge TV, the velvet sofas and the eight-seater dining table. For a moment, she forgot about Raghav.

  ‘Your college is doing this well?’ she said, wide-eyed.

  ‘This is only the beginning,’ I said, and came forward to hold her. ‘With you by my side, see where I take it. University status in three years.’

  ‘Big man, Gopal. You have become a big man,’ she said.

  I shook my head. ‘For you, I am the same,’ I said. I kissed her on the forehead.

  I offered to show her the house. We went upstairs and saw each of the three bedrooms. My room had a king-size bed with a twelve-inch mattress. Next to the bed, I had kept a rocking chair similar to Baba’s.

  She kept quiet throughout my guided tour. Every time I showed her something, like the marble tiles or the split air-conditioner, she looked suitably awed. However, she seemed more interested in watching the excitement on my face than the fittings.

  I threw myself on the bed. She sat on the rocking chair. We looked at the window as rain splattered on the panes.

  ‘It’s raining,’ she said, excited.

  ‘It’s an auspicious sign. The first time you came to our house,’ I said.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘It is ours, not mine. I made it for us,’ I said.

  ‘Shut up. You didn’t know we would be together when construction started,’ she said and grinned.

  I smiled. ‘Correct. But I have done it up for us. Else, why would I need such a big house?’

  ‘You are the director. It’s not a joke,’ she said.

  ‘You want to talk about Raghav?’ I said. I sensed she needed to.

  ‘We don’t have to,’ she said and shook her head, putting on a brave smile.

  ‘Come here,’ I said and patted the bed.

  She hesitated, but I extended my hand. She held it as I pulled her gently down. I kissed her, and she kissed me back with closed eyes. It wasn’t frantic or sexual. It was, if at all it is possible to kiss like that, chaste and pure. However, we kissed for a long time, our pace as gentle as the rain on the window. I felt her tears on my cheeks. I paused and held her shoulders. She hugged me and buried her face in my chest. I