Tripathi felt his temper rise, the brief period of calm punctured by the boys’ conversation, the bullshit excitement. He picked up his helmet and turned around. He located the boys and walked, almost strode, towards them. When they saw him they fell silent. They stood up respectfully and said, ‘Good morning, sir,’ in unison. Some of the customers turned around to see what was going on.

Tripathi was taken aback for a second or two. He recognized some of the boys from his third-year class. They must know about his daughter. ‘Look at yourselves,’ he boomed. ‘Take a good look in the mirror, each one of you. Spoilt brats, all. Condoms, sex, yes, it’s all a bloody joke, life is a bloody joke. Sit in Civil Lines and grind your family name to pulp. Shame on you.’

The boys dropped their heads in mock shame and apologized. Two of them, unable to suppress their laughter, excused themselves and moved away in the direction of the water cooler. Did one of them hiss something about Jyoti? Tripathi couldn’t tell.

He stormed out of the restaurant and was immediately surrounded by street children. They sniggered and scattered when he hit out at them with his battered helmet. He went as fast as his scooter could take, weaving in and out of the traffic in a way he hadn’t done since he got married. He was desperate to meet Jyoti. After all, she was his daughter; he should be there for her. Of course, he loved her. Still, she had no business behaving like this. They needed to talk. They would work something out.

He was almost halfway home when he realized he wasn’t carrying his license with him. To get to his house he had to drive past a traffic police checkpoint. Every evening, from five till about nine, the policemen flagged down two-wheelers and checked for licenses. Tripathi looked inside his wallet. Hopefully he had enough to bribe them. The wallet was empty apart from a five-rupee note. He had spent the rest in El Chico and HotBite.

Touch and Go

Ambuj Goel sat in his office staring out of the lone window in the room. The rain fell in torrents, like it had for the last few days. It was a deadening rain, the kind which not only makes normal life impossible but also shutters the mind.

Goel felt tired which was odd because he hadn’t been working too hard. A civil servant by profession, he had recently been transferred to Dehra Dun. The office was still waiting for the bulk of the files to be shifted from Lucknow, the previous headquarters. There was a lot of waiting to do and, meanwhile, a lot of rain.