35
Chanakya Hotel, Patna
Madhav continued to stare at the last page long after he had read it,
fists clenched.
‘What?’ he burst out and went silent.
He turned his gaze from the journal to me.
‘What is this, Chetan sir?’ he said.
‘Your friend’s journals, remember?’ I said.
He slammed the notebook shut, and took rapid shallow breaths. He
buried his face in his hands, ran fingers through his thick, uncombed
hair. He remained still until I touched his shoulder.
‘Are you all right?’ I said.
He looked at me in a dazed way. His face had turned an intense
shade of red.
‘She’s alive,’ he mumbled.
‘That is what it seems like,’ I said.
‘She’s alive,’ he said again. His body began to shake
uncontrollably.
‘So you see why I called you.You said she’s dead. You wanted to
throw these journals away.’
‘How could she lie? Such a big lie.. .the bitch.’
He fought back tears.
‘Madhav, you said you loved her. What kind of language is this?’
‘I... I... ’ he said and stopped, unable to finish the sentence, the
thought.
'You’re in shock.'
'She always does this. She runs away.The only way she deals with
issues is by running away,’
He broke down then, tears in his stubble.
'It took me years to get over her. I have still not healed, How could
she...?’he muttered to himself,.