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  I was very happy to see the way things had turned out for Chitra. But I came back to my original question. ‘Chitra, why did you pay my hotel bill? That is not right.’

  With tears in her eyes and gratitude on her face, she said, ‘Akka, if you hadn’t helped me, I don’t know where I would have been today—maybe a beggar, a prostitute, a runaway child, a servant in someone’s house … or I may even have committed suicide. You changed my life. I am ever grateful to you.’

  ‘No, Chitra. I am only one step in your ladder of success,’ I said. ‘There are many steps which led you to where you are today—the shelter which looked after you, the schools which gave you good education, the company which sent you to America and, above all, it is you—a determined and inspired girl who made your life yourself. One step should never be given all the credit for the end result.’

  ‘That is your thinking, Akka. I differ with you,’ she said.

  ‘Chitra, you are starting a new life and you should save money for your new family. Why did you pay my hotel bill?’

  Chitra did not reply but told John to touch my feet. Then, suddenly sobbing, she hugged me and said, ‘Because you paid for my ticket from Bombay to Bangalore!’

  19

  Miserable Success

  Vishnu was a young, bright and ambitious student from the first batch I ever taught at college. So my relationship with him was closer than that with my students from subsequent batches. He was charming, communicative and clear in his thinking.

  In college, we used to have long arguments on different issues and we used to agree to disagree on many matters. I used to tell him, ‘Vishnu, I have seen many more seasons than you. With my experience in life, I want to tell you that having good relationships, compassion and peace of mind is much more important than achievements, awards, degrees or money.’

  Vishnu would argue back: ‘Madam, your stomach is full and you have achieved everything. Hence, you are comfortable in life and can say that. You have received many awards, so you don’t care for them and you are not ambitious. You will never understand people like me.’ Then, I usually just smiled at him. I liked him for his openness.

  Vishnu was also very good at teaching. He completed his degree and got an excellent job in Microsoft in Seattle, USA. He was awaiting his visa to go abroad. I told him to teach at my college while he was waiting. Whenever I could not attend the laboratory sessions, I told him to take charge of the junior lab and be my substitute. He became very popular with the students.

  I asked Vishnu, ‘You are very good at teaching. Why don’t you seriously think of becoming a professor?’

  He said, ‘My monthly salary in the US is more than a teacher’s annual salary here. Why would I want to become a professor?’

  ‘Vishnu, don’t be so rude. A teacher is not respected for the salary but for his or her knowledge and teaching. If you don’t respect the teaching profession, that is fine, but don’t make such a comparison.’

  Soon, Vishnu left the country on his new assignment.

  Many years passed and a decade rolled by. My students, who were once young, were now middle-aged and I had gone from middle age to old age.

  One day, my secretary told me that someone called Vishnu wanted to meet me. By this time, I knew many Vishnus and was not able to place him at once. She said that he was a student from my first batch of students. Now I recognized him instantly and told her to set up an appointment. After all, old wine, old memories and old students are precious in life.

  On the day of the appointment, Vishnu walked in right on time. He had less hair than before and some of them were grey. He had put on weight. He was wearing an expensive shirt and there was a platinum diamond ring on his finger. But alas, his face was like a dried tomato. There was not a trace of enthusiasm on it. On the contrary, I could see some lines of worry on his face.

  He sat in front of me and I ordered him a cup of tea. Vishnu looked at me and said, ‘Madam, you look really old now.’

  I smiled and said, ‘Time and tide will wait for no one.’ But he did not smile back. ‘How are you, Vishnu?’ I asked. ‘I haven’t met you for fifteen years. It is very nice of you to remember your old teacher and come to see me. Where are you? What are you doing now? Are you still with Microsoft?’

  ‘No, madam. I left Microsoft after three years,’ replied Vishnu.

  ‘No wonder people say that if someone stays in a software company for more than three years, he is a loyal person!’

  He did not respond to my joke. ‘So where are you now?’ I asked again.

  ‘I own a company in Singapore. Two hundred people work for me. We make very good profit.’ I felt Vishnu’s voice had that pride of achievement, which was very natural.

  ‘So you have settled in Singapore?’

  ‘Not really, I come to India quite often because of work. I have a house in Vasant Vihar in Delhi, a flat in Worli in Mumbai, a bungalow in Raj Mahal Vilas Extension in Bangalore, a farm on Bannerghatta Road …’

  I stopped him. ‘Vishnu, I didn’t ask you about your assets. I am not an income-tax person. I just wanted to know where you normally stay.’ I was pulling his leg, yet he did not smile.

  ‘Vishnu, you have told me enough about your financial assets,’ I continued. ‘Now tell me about your marital status. Are you married? How many children do you have? What do they do?’ Usually, a mother and a teacher get the automatic authority to pose these questions to her children and students. I am no exception. Some people mind my questions because it is their personal life and I get the hint and stop. But most people happily tell me about their life.

  ‘Yes, I am married. I have an eight-year-old daughter,’ he said.

  Vishnu pulled out his wallet and showed me his family photo. When he was in college, he used to go out with Bhagya, a girl junior to him. But the lady in the photograph was different. She was stunningly beautiful, like a model, and his daughter was cute.

  I felt that his life was a picture-perfect postcard. He was successful, rich, had a very pretty wife and a daughter. What else can one want in life? With this kind of success, he should be very happy and enthusiastic—but he was not. I did not know the reason, but I knew that he would tell me. I stopped talking and allowed Vishnu to speak.

  Slowly, Vishnu opened up. ‘Madam, I have a problem. I have come to talk to you.’

  ‘What problem? And why do you think I have the solution? Actually, a successful person like you should help an old teacher like me,’ I joked to reduce the tension.

  ‘It is nothing to do with success, madam. For the last few years, I have been feeling very sad. I feel like I am missing something in life. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is,’ he said. ‘Nothing makes me happy. Nothing even moves me or touches my heart, even if I see a heart-wrenching incident. I feel that I am travelling in a desert without water and the roads are paved with gold and silver …’

  I asked him directly, ‘Have you seen a doctor or a counsellor?’

  ‘Of course I have. They said that a compassionate heart is important to enjoy life. They told me to read books and advised me to try and be happy by doing things such as looking at the sunrise, listening to the birds, taking long walks and exercising regularly.’

  ‘Well, what happened?’

  ‘I lost weight with all the activities but otherwise things didn’t improve. I went back to a counsellor again. He told me to go to Somalia on a trip.’

  ‘Why Somalia?’ I was surprised. ‘I know that there are trips to Europe, Hong Kong and Bangkok. But I have never heard of a trip to Somalia. Tell me, did you go there? What did you do in Somalia?’ I was curious.

  ‘Oh, they took us to orphanages, HIV camps and camps of children suffering from malnutrition. But nothing happened. I still didn’t feel anything. On the contrary, my mind was busy calculating how Somalia could export to America or other European nations. What would you have done in my place, madam?’ he questioned me.

  ‘Don’t put me in your shoes. What I would do is left