Back EUNUCH PARK
Chapters (17)
  1. Copyright
  2. Dancing with Men
  3. Fit of Rage
  4. Pornography
  5. Eunuch Park
  6. Nobody Wants to Eat My Mangoes
  7. Bloody and the Friendship Club
  8. Rubber Band
  9. Okhla Basti
  10. The Teacher’s Daughter
  11. Touch and Go
  12. The Nick of Time
  13. The Farewell
  14. The Other Evening
  15. The Wrist
  16. Freshers’ Welcome
  17. Acknowledgements

Divya and I had a friend in common: Sankalp. Sankalp and I were together in middle school. Then he flunked, and kept flunking. But we had been good friends. Our school did not have organized games in the recess, but this doesn’t mean we did not have team sports. It was a big school; every boy worth his salt was part of a team. There was nothing official about it. Your ability to put a team together and find teams to play with depended on your initiative, persuasive skills and charisma. I had a team of my own: the Allahabad Wings. Our sport was soccer and Sankalp our star goalie. Instead of a proper soccer ball, we played with a cricket-sized one made of cork. We played wearing our regular Naughty Boy shoes; needless to say, tackles could be very painful.

It turned out that Divya and Sankalp lived in the same neighbourhood. She had been coaching him every single day and under her tutelage Sankalp had been making progress. He had also fallen for her.

One rainy afternoon after school, I found myself surrounded yet again. There was a black Kawasaki Bajaj, a red Ind Suzuki and a silver-grey Hero Honda. The guy on the KB delivered the message: ‘Sankalp ka dil Divya par aa gaya hai. Baki to tum jaante hi ho.’

I nodded my head but was noncommittal. They suggested I nip it in the bud and promised to return next week. In the evening I went to Osho’s STD looking for Karan. I hadn’t seen him for almost a fortnight now. There was no one at the STD except for Osho, the owner. ‘Haven’t you heard?’ he said, ‘Karan’s left arm was blown off in a crude bomb attack. Vicky Wadhwa’s men. His parents have taken him to Delhi.’

The next morning, before classes for the day had begun, Divya walked up to me and called the whole thing off: ‘I won’t be able to speak to you any more. Do not try and call me, don’t expect any calls from me. In school you will pretend that I don’t exist. Goodbye.’

After this incident I was heartbroken. I vowed never to fall in love. I also became a professional go-between. My standard charge was two Pepsis for every card passed. The Pepsis had to be paid for in advance.