Nomad Scholar

  If you haven't read the previous parts, click on the links below, Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI It was 8 pm of 2 nd January 2019. Swastik was sitting at the police station with Alisha and Aman. “Sir will see you now”, said a rather obese policeman to Swastik. He nodded and walked into the office. Inside, Swastik found the constable pacing around the room. There was a man in a tuxedo on the other side of the desk. “Close the door behind you, boy”, said the constable in a welcoming tone. “Take a seat”, he said. As Swastik sat, the man in the tuxedo turned to him. He had a fair complexion and was wearing shades. He checked his watch and cleared his throat. “Swastik, we know how hard these times have been for you.” “Do you-” “Don’t interrupt me. So, I’ll try my best to tell you about your parents. They have served a noble purpose and I owe them my life.” “What? They were-” “Do. Not. Interrupt.” “I’m sorry, Sir.” “As a show of gratitude for thei...

  “It was 3 am. Aneesha made some tea and brought a cup to Salim. They sat in the together in the moonlit balcony as the sweet melody of Rabindra Sangeet cleansed their souls. Salim looked lovingly at Aneesha. ‘What?’, she asked smilingly. ‘Nothing. You look beautiful.’, he said looking into her eyes. She punched him playfully and rested her head on his shoulder. They looked into the distance reminiscing on all the memories they had made. -The End” He stretched and got up from his chair. It was 4 in the morning and the sun had just started to rise. He walked to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea. ‘Alexa, play Tomay Hridmajhare Rakhbo .’ He peeked into a room. In the dark, he saw that same old shelf with a dozen trophies in it many of which had failed to endure the test of time. With a sigh, he sat in the living room and sipped the tea in the dim lights. ‘Wish you were here, Aneesha.’, he said to himself.

He’s a drug addict just back from rehab. She’s a back-office clerk. They share a small apartment in a building of miscreants and criminals. Every few months, they can’t pay their bills. A few days ago, with much effort, he threw the rest of the weed and picked up a book. He started teaching kids in the neighborhood but he felt tired all the time. She would work extra shifts to make ends meet. Today is Valentine’s Day. Vendors are selling red heart-shaped balloons on the street and couples are walking on the street. From the windows of the coffee shop, you can see couples smiling, holding hands and chatting. She worked till late in the night and walked back home. On the road was a desolate vendor with one balloon left. She smiled as she paid Rs 10 for it. She opened the door to her apartment slowly hoping not to startle him. There were candles lighted in the living room. Wine glasses were on the dining table and spaghetti on two plates. He was asleep on the couch. She kissed his head, p...

  We are artists. Some of us are painters, some writers, some singers or dancers, some calligraphers and some of us just like to scribble in the last pages of our notebooks. As artists, we are different. We were born with an urge to express ourselves. Those who say that we’re the same as the rest of the world doesn’t know our perspectives. We have an opinion about everything we see or feel. Whatever can be perceived by the senses is an inspiration to us. We involuntarily take into account every small detail around us. We hold on to the silliest of memories and like to relive them in our consciences. We find ambiguity in the simplest of circumstances and contemplate every other possibility. Sometimes, it’s a boon- an advantage we have over the rest of the world. We have the ability to critically analyze every event. No doubt, most of the innovators in history and in present had an artistic side. And sometimes, being an artist is more of a curse than a blessing. We feel that it’s...

  To read the previous parts, Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Two days later... Aman had registered a missing complaint for Amar and Esha. Swastik and Elsa were living with Aman's family for now. He shared a room with his cousin, Alisha. She was cool about having him there. He found compassion in his aunt and his cousin but lived in a constant void. Though the others had hope that his parents would return, he didn't. One day, Alisha happened to stumble into an old notebook while cleaning the room. On turning the first page, she saw that it was Swastik's diary. She didn't want to invade his privacy but she wanted to know her cousin better. So, she turned over to the latest entry. "30th December 2018 Hey, Elsa. Remember that video we saw? No one believes us. Ma and Papa are not coming back. Aman mama registered a complaint but I wish the police doesn't find them. They don't want me. Maybe I have been a bad kid. That's why I don't have f...

  Links to the previous parts: Part I Part II Part III Part IV "You got the gift?" "Yes, Ma! What is in it?" Swastik heard his mom taking a deep, trembling breath. "I'm sorry, beta. Know that Ma and Baba will always love you. No matter what, they're with you", she said in a shaky voice and hung up. Swastik ran to the hall room and tore through the packaging, unable to hold his excitement. There was a brand-new iPhone inside complete with its packaging. He let out a squeal and carefully opened it. Elsa made her way to his side and sniffed the box. Swastik switched on the phone and found a recording on it. Curious, he pressed "Play". He saw his parents holding hands, sitting upright next to each other and "25th December 2018 15:32" was written at the bottom of the screen. The wall behind them seemed oddly familiar to Swastik though he couldn't recall exactly where he had seen it. "Hello, Swastik. Hope you're...