My guests at hostel
June 06, 2007
I felt bad. I had kept them in my hostel room for almost a month now and had grown used to their presence. Random surprise raids are really terrible. And, why did Prof. Choudhary have to start from my room? With even a couple of minutes of intimation, I could have hid them somewhere.
But now, I had an angry warden at hand who almost never thought that I could do such a thing. I pleaded for giving me some time till they find a new home, "Without me, where will they go?" At last he held up his index finger and said, "One day. Tomorrow evening I will come and check again. They must be gone by that time, and no tricks with me. Okay?" Was that supposed to be a question? In the school, I had heard the phrase "rhetorical question". The answer is not expected, it is assumed. And in this case, it was assumed in the affirmative.
Prof. Choudhary did not venture in other people's rooms and did not check the toilets. He just called off the raid and went back to his own room. But he had left me worried—not only about myself, but also about two other lives. I rapidly banished the possibility of treachery and attributed this to luck alone. After all, everyone who knew about them was fond of them and I knew none who were jealous. Anyways, I had a problem at hand, and it had to be solved quickly. No one else would dare to keep them for fear of being caught. I wanted to put off the problem till tomorrow but could hardly sleep.
I woke up early in the morning with at least a handful of incomplete dreams and that gave me awful eyes and a temper that was hanging by the thinnest string you may know. I thought of visiting my favorite spot at the Vihar Lake. This particular spot had soothed me for so many times now, that I had come to associate it with mental turmoil. "How contrary," my thoughts drifted as I thought about it. "It has always clamed me down, and still I associate it with the saddest moments I had in this place. Why can't I just remember the fond outcome and not the chaos of thought that I invariably have when I am going to that spot…"
Staring at the lake, I knew I was looking at their probable new home. They may have to be let off into the lake—a much bigger expanse of water than my glass bowl, but also a riskier one. It is not perfectly safe for a couple of guppies in such a lake. I was sad, but had to do it. I went back to my room and wanted to have a good look at the pair for the last time. When I will empty the bowl, I shall invariably close my eyes, so this would be the last time I would really be looking at them. Grown accustomed to my presence, they could sense me looking at them, and as usual, thought that I was going to feed them. Absent mindedly, I picked up the fish-food bottle and was just going to open it when I saw the characteristic black spot near the tail of the female. I have seen it so many times from my childhood, but the gripping joy that I feel when I first notice it has never reduced.
She was pregnant. No. I cannot leave her in the Vihar Lake in such a situation. I thought of a clean plan. I could cheat no more, but could easily gain the confidence of the warden to keep my fish some more time. I took out one of the best paper sheets I had. It was an "Executive Bond" plain paper. With no lines to guide my hand the so-called letter to the warden became so badly written that I had to tear it off. Consequently, I picked up a new bond paper sheet, and pinned a ruled sheet beneath it. With the lines visible, the letter was better looking. It read:
Ashutosh Dhekne
Hostel 11-A
Date: July 06, 2007
Subject: Inability to let go of my fish.
To,
The Warden,
Hostel 11-A
Respected Sir,
It has come to my notice only today morning that the female Guppy (fish) is pregnant. I consider it grossly unethical not to tender utmost care and proper feeding to her at such a crucial time.
According to my experience and study, the gestation period of Guppies varies from 28 days to 40 days. It will be, hence, not possible to immediately carry out your orders as to release of my fish. May I request you to please relax your orders?
In good faith,
Ashutosh Dhekne.
Snuggled in a modest looking white envelope, this paper lay at the bottom of the postbox at Prof. Choudhary's gate. He has requested all inmates of the hostel to deposit their requests and concerns in that box. In the morning before leaving his home, he always checks that box. I did not know what would be the consequences of my actions and was nervous the whole day. I did not answer any questions put to us in the class, and my gloomy behavior was attributed to the loss of my fish. Till this time, all were aware that I had kept them in my room and was caught in a surprise raid. Some of my friends tried to console me and I smiled ruefully at them.
Prof. Choudhary was furious. In the evening, when I saw him coming to my room, I quickly opened the door, saw the white letter in his hand, my envelope ripped open rather disgracefully, and invited him with a smile. "Look at her. The babies are very tiny currently, but they will soon grow up and you will see a substantial increase in the size of her belly." I was going to play the game to its fullest. "How many years have you had fish?" Prof. Choudhary was softening, rather quickly, I thought, and it was a good sign. "When I was in the forth standard, my brother gave me a pair of Guppies. They died in a couple of weeks, but my enthusiasm only grew stronger. I soon persuaded my parents to buy me more fish and this time, could keep them for about 4 months." I could go on with this story of mine for about half an hour more, but Prof. was in no mood to hear me out. He waved my letter in front of me and said, "Let all this be true, or else, you are in a fix, my boy." I was getting slightly amused since it meant that I could surely keep my fish, at least for some time now. Soon, when the baby fish are delivered, I would have a bigger problem at hand. Also, if my judgment was proven wrong, and the babies never materialized, I would be in a bad shape.
When I told this to my friends, they thought I fooled Prof. Choudhary. Well, I genuinely thought she was pregnant. I was correct. In a month's time, I had about 35 baby fish swimming in another bowl! Prof. Choudhary got the wind of it, but never turned up. It seems he developed some respect for my feelings for the fish. I was wondering if I could raise another family of "Sunrise Moley" this time…