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About Notion Press
Notion Press is a Self-Publishing platform to write,
publish & sell Print books and eBooks around the
world. To learn more, visit www.notionpress.com
May 28 is a product of the Notion Press Author
Incubation Program.
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May 28
Sharon Puthur
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NotionPress
5 Muthu Kalathy Street, Triplicane, Chennai - 600005
First Published by NotionPress
Copyright © Sharon Puthur 2013
All Rights Reserved.
ISBN: 978-93-82447-34-4
This book is sold subject to condition that it shall not by
way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold or hired out,
circulated and no reproduction in any form, in whole or
in part (except for brief quotations in critical articles or
reviews) may be made without written permission of the
publishers.
This book has been published in good faith that the work of the author is original. All efforts have been taken to
make the material error-free. However, the author and the
publisher disclaim the responsibility for any inadvertent
errors.
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This book is for:
Shereen and Veena, my two partners
in crime. The bad influences in my life.But without whom my life would’ve
been unimaginably dull. I am so glad
to have known them.
And, Sanju.
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Acknowledgements
My thanks to:
My parents, for their support in my journey as a
writer. It has been tough.
My sister, who gave me insights and ideas on the
characters that I never realised. It comes with being
a Literature student. A special mention here for
the Mount Carmel College drama team “Gallata”
whose name I borrowed.
My friends and relatives, whose praises and
criticisms helped keep me in check all the time.
Arvind Kamath, the first one to hear about Rohit
Arora and in many ways an inspiration.
And finally to my best friend. A Jewish carpenter,
a Man, a God, but most importantly a story teller.
Thank you for putting stories in me. Without you
this book would’ve never happened.
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Trust in the LORD with all your heart;
Do not rely on your own insight.
Let his presence pervade all your ways,
And he will make your paths smooth.
Prov 3: 5-6
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Prologue
‘Naina get ready soon; the boy’s family will be here
in half an hour.’
My mother bustled about in the room, fussing
with my clothes and jewellery.I acknowledged her with a nod and a smile and
then turned back to the mirror. I saw a calm girl
of twenty-five staring back. She looked calm in
the reflection, maybe a little resigned, but calm for
sure.
Looks can really be so deceptive. Today is going to be a day different from the
others. My instincts tell me that. The air is thick
with anticipation.
But I am scared. Terribly scared.
Today might be the day when I’ll have to let go
of all that I hoped for, all that I longed for. I’ll haveto accept the change sooner or later. The change
might even make me the happiest person on earth.
But I am scared. I am scared to change. Maybe
because I didn’t want to let go...
The mark of a fine actress was in maintaining a
desired expression for the required time and that was what we had been trained to do. The slightest
alteration in the expression could change the entire
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situation. I am a fine actress I thought with a faint
smile.‘I’ll be so happy once you’re settled down.’ My
mother was saying. ‘We’ll be one big happy family
with my grand children around me and you will be
happy just like your sister is happy.’
My face tensed. My smile was fast disappearing
and getting replaced by the least appropriateemotion. I clutched my throat as I felt a lump form
and I got up from the chair. I muttered something,
which sounded like stomachache and ran to the
bathroom.
The tears started even before I bolted the door.
From the room I could hear Amma laughing andsaying that such things were common before a big
event like this. And she went on to recount with
gaiety the similar experience she had before she
met Appa.
I held on to the door handle unable to stop
crying. Come on Naina this is not expected of
you. Pull yourself together. I turned and rested
my hands on the washbasin trying hard to control
myself.
I lifted my head and looked a second time in the
mirror. I looked hideous. My eyes and nose were
red and the tears showed no signs of stopping. I
quickly opened the tap and splashed water on my
face. I didn’t want to surprise anyone by crying
and if they see me like this I will have a lot of
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explanation to do. I splashed water more
vigorously and tried my old trick of breathing deeply and smiling widely while at the same time
trying to think of a happy thought.
That’s when an image flitted across my mind.
An image of wisdom and of strength. I was
surprised. He was telling a story. The story of the
farmer and his horse.
He spoke:
Once upon a time there was a farmer. This
farmer had only one horse, a beautiful mare that
was praised far and wide. One day this horse ranaway. The neighbours came to condole over his
terrible loss.
The farmer said, “What makes you think this is
so terrible?”
A month later, the horse came home, this time
bringing with her two beautiful wild horses. The
neighbours became excited at the farmer’s good
fortune. Such lovely horses!
The farmer said, “What makes you think this is
good fortune?”
Some time later, the farmer’s only son, while
riding one of the wild horses, fell off and broke his
leg. All the neighbours were very distressed. Such
bad luck!
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The farmer said, “What makes you think this is
bad?”Soon thereafter a war broke out and every able-
bodied man was conscripted and sent into battle.
Only the farmer’s son, because he had a broken
leg, remained. The neighbours congratulated the
farmer.
The farmer said, “What makes you think this isgood?”
I wanted the story to go on but he stopped.
‘What do you think the story is trying to tell?’
I didn’t have to think before answering.‘That everything happens for the good all the
time.’
‘What is good and what is bad?’ He mused.
This time I thought before answering.
‘Does it mean that we should not judge anything
that happens in our life?’
He smiled.
‘That is what it is. All situations in life are a
part of a huge jigsaw puzzle that is still incomplete.
You’ll come to know things by and by. Why judge
one puzzle piece? But there is something deeper
that I want to convey to you with this story.’
He paused as he considered me.
‘Only when you trust in Providence can you
refrain from judgement. With that trust you can
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accept anything that happens in your life. But that
kind of trust only begins with a hope. You mustnot give up hope. No matter how a situation seems
to you don’t lose hope. Always keep hope alive in
your heart.
‘What is the date today?’
‘Twenty eight May.’
‘May twenty eight. Remember this day. Let itremind you never to lose hope ever. Remember
May twenty eight.’
I never forgot.
Prologue ix
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PART I
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1
THE GOOD, THE
BAD, THE UGLY ‘Okay Naina… calm down… relax… things will be
fine… there’s absolutely nothing to worry about.’
Neha said in a voice that was both authoritative
and consoling.
It was the last day of our 12th board exams and
Neha and I were cooped up in my bathroom. I was
biting the insides of my lips in nervousness.
‘Let’s go over the Good, the Bad and the Ugly
again. First the Good, ’ Neha pointed her thumb at
me.‘You are seventeen years old and you are going
for your first ever date with a really hot guy!’ She
gripped my shoulders as if trying to transfer the
realisation purely by means of kinaesthetic
pressure.
‘He’s stinking rich. His parents own a bungalow in one of the poshest localities in Mumbai. He is an
Engineering student and Electronics Engineering
at that and in one of the best colleges here. I think
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that’s too good. And to top that he has his own
bike and his own mobile phone!’I still looked like I was in pain. ‘The Bad is that
he brags a lot and he’s clingy.’
‘So? What’s wrong with that? People brag when
they have done things worth bragging about. He
has and he wants to share it with you. That’s all. If
he is clingy it just means that he loves you and he’spossessive. There’s nothing wrong with that. Many
girls love it.’
‘In relationships you have to give each other
space.’ I frowned.
‘I agree. But are you going to reject him just
because of that? Maybe when he is sure of you he wont be that clingy.’
I tried a different tack. ‘What if he tries to take
advantage of me?’
Neha sighed. ‘Firstly, he’s going to take you to
a restaurant which you know of and which will be
crowded so he can’t do anything to you.’
‘What about in the theatre?’
‘Will you get tickets today?’
‘He said he would go early to book it. I hope he
gets it.’ I said crossing my fingers. ‘I badly want to
watch it. It’s a Salman Khan movie!’
‘Don’t worry. Even if it’s sold out he’ll buy you
one in black. He’ll do anything for you. That is how
crazy he is about you.’
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‘Okay. What if he tries to do something in the
theatre?’She wet her lips in exasperation. ‘You do have
your pen knife don’t you?’
‘Yeah I do, ’ I said with a wink.
‘Don’t hesitate to use it on him if the need
arises. But you know it will not happen. He’s a nice
guy.’‘Hmm, ’ I said. ‘What about the lies I’ll have to
say to my parents just to go on this date?’
‘I was coming to that, ’ she said. ‘That’s the
Bad. You’ll have to do it if you need to go on
the date because you know parents, they’ll never
understand things like dates. You’ll unnecessarily put them in panic if you tell them the truth and
it will have other horrible repercussions
like…like…they won’t trust you anymore…I
won’t be allowed into your house again and your
every move will be watched. Do you need to go
through all that?’
I shook my head violently.
‘Then why bother?’ Neha said looking relieved.
‘Elders are there in our life to make sure that our
lives go smooth and safe without any hiccups, but
once in while isn’t it nice to experience a hiccup
too? The only thing you need to be careful about
is that nobody, I repeat, nobody who is capable of
recognising you should see you. That is the Ugly.’
I took a deep breath and nodded my head.
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‘Whatever be the case, don’t get caught. Cover
your face with a dupatta if need be or wear ahelmet while on the bike –anything –but be safe.’
She sighed and lowered her hands after its
excessive use to convince me.
‘I think you should go. It is an experience of a
lifetime and you’ll have to do it sometime so why
not now?’I stared at a lone spider trudging along the
length of the bathroom wall.
‘What does your brain tell you?’
‘To abort this plan.’ I said bringing my eyes back
on her.
‘What does your heart tell you?’‘My heart tells me to do something rash and
impulsive.’
‘Then listen to your heart silly!’
‘That’s the problem. We have got into so much
trouble listening to the heart all the time that…for
example that…that Kajal incident.’
‘Kajal! Kajal! Why do you keep bringing that
incident to your mind all the time? It was a one
off and won’t happen again, and you know that
it actually turned out for the good. Look at my
parents now to know how it has been for me.
Don’t let it paralyse you .’
I was silent for a moment and then slowly I
broke into a smile.
‘Yes!’ She grinned. ‘Good girl!’
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She held out her hands. I closed my hands on
hers and we said it together.‘We are the smartest. We are the best. We are
the Notorious N’s!’
Both of us laughed and hugged.
‘Okay get ready now.’ Neha said. ‘Meanwhile I’ll
pack a pair of jeans and a T shirt into your bag.’
She turned to unbolt the bathroom door but Ireached out and held her arm. She looked at me
surprised. ‘What?’
‘Neha am I doing the right thing?’
She looked at me outraged. ‘Naina after all this
talk you come back to this basic question?
‘Just tell me would you do it?’‘I would obviously do it. Don’t tell me we are
having this conversation again.’
I smiled involuntarily. ‘Every mistake begins
with a small step.’
She gave me a don’t-kid-me look. ‘I just know
one thing that if you keep yourself always from
doing something that you want to, you’ll never
have any interesting stories to tell your
grandchildren.’
‘You bad girl!’ I said in mock horror. ‘You
always tempt me and make me do things against
my will.’
‘Tempt you, that I do all right but your will is
still yours. You still have around four and a half
hours to decide whether to go on the date or not
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and if your decision is yes, you can be sure to find
a change of clothes in your bag.’She said that and shut the bathroom door.
I stood alone in my bathroom smiling to myself.
Neha was like that, always been like that since the
day we first met.I met Neha Kashyap for the first time in first
standard and we hit off from the first day itself.
I remembered seeing this dusky, shorthaired girl
sitting all by herself on a seat and watching the
people around her. Anybody would’ve dismissed
her as plain or even felt sorry for her, thinking her to be friendless. Even I would’ve done the
same had I not noticed her mouth. It was the most
captivating feature of her face and undoubtedly
when she spoke the attention automatically went to
her lips. She just sat observing everybody pursing
her mouth as though she knew the thoughts of
each of her classmates, and laughed inwardly at
some private joke about them. For some reason
she reminded me of a naughty pixie and I was
more than curious to know her.
I saw her later convincing a girl to eat mud and
succeeding in her venture. So I decided then and
there that I wanted to be her friend.
I recall years later in the words of Mrs Payal
Arora –our maths teacher and our least favourite
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of all teachers –when she addressed the class just
after punishing us,“The world would’ve been a safer place to live
in had the two of them never met”.
It was a gross exaggeration where the “world”
was concerned, but I had to admit it was otherwise
a true statement.
Neha and I was an explosive pair. Bold was ourmiddle name. Brazen was our second middle name
and Brash was our third. When we were small, our
mischiefs were of a milder degree but the mildness
decreased exponentially as we grew older, till we
were feared all over school for our notoriety. We
were coined “The Notorious N’s”. We wreakedhavoc wherever we went. Every dastardly plan for
a prank I conjured she would make sure that it was
implemented. We were arrogant and believed that
we could do anything and get away with it. And we
did.
At times I felt bad that it was I who instigated
her to carry out the things we starred in but she
always managed to convince me that the instigation
was very well justified. All in all I had to say that
she is a bad influence in my life and I am glad to
have known her.
Apart from our interests in playing pranks we
shared an undying love for Enid Blyton novels. We
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started reading from the age of eight and vowed to
have a life filled with magic, adventure and mystery just like in the novels. We especially loved the
boarding school series of “The Malory Towers”
and “The St Clare’s”. We too wanted to experience
the thrills of boarding life, but how would it be
possible to explain all this to the parents of ten year
olds?
Then when we were in the 5th standard in our
boring school in the neighbourhood something
happened that would change our lives forever…
I would never be able to forget that day; it was a
Friday, the 13th of August. It was the first hour and
it was maths, and as usual both of us sat in the last
seat behind two hefty girls who acted as our humanshields to protect us from the dangerous woman
who stood near the blackboard.
As usual Mrs Arora walked in to the class five
minutes before the bell and everybody acting like
perfect robots, got up, wished her a singsong
“Good Morning” and sat down in perfect unison.She glanced at everyone through unsmiling eyes,
lingering on us a little more than necessary and
replied a curt good morning. She always reminded
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me of a hawk who counted her prey before
pouncing on them alive.She kept her books on the table and while still
looking at us, opened the drawer to remove three
chalks –that was how many she took during one
class.
If it was a normal day she would’ve removed the
chalks, closed the drawer and started to teach; butthat day was not normal.
The moment she put her hand in the drawer she
pulled back as though burned. She looked into the
drawer, perturbed. Immediately her hand flew to
her mouth and she screamed like a Rakshasi! Any
weak heart would’ve permanently stopped thatinstant, but the students in our class were
reasonably strong and apart from the natural
involuntary reactions and jerks nobody looked too
disturbed. Some first bencher girls ran to support
Ma’am who looked faint and some brave people
including the two of us decided to inspect the
drawer. We took a glance and immediately stepped
back in horror.
In it was a thick, black, coiled snake!
‘It is them! I am sure they did it!’ Mrs Arora said
dramatically, pointing her finger. Slowly everyone
turned to look in the direction of the finger and
before we could scream, “boo”; thirty-one pairs of
eyes were looking at us.
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Unknown to us, in another section of the
school, in the biology lab a commotion was taking
place. The attendant of the lab had apparently
noticed that one of the formaldehyde jars, which
housed a black viper, was empty.
It didn’t take long to piece the stories togetherand soon we were branded as the culprits and our
parents were called to school.
We pleaded “Not Guilty” but nobody believed
us. Obviously.
Many gave their theories. Some said that we
were being unfairly singled out because we werethe usual pranksters. Some others felt that there
was a huge conspiracy involving the rival school,
but the rest, which was the majority, felt that we
were deserving and that our pranks had gone way
too far this time. I remembered the story of the
boy who cried wolf and felt sorry for him. We were
both scared and I felt like crying but somehow held
back the tears.
Our timid principal was at his wits end. He was
nearing his retirement age and excitement of this
degree was not what he had bargained for in the
last few months of his working life. Nobody could
prove the charges at us but everybody, including
our principal, wanted us out.
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‘I do know for sure, Mr Rai and Mr Kashyap,
that your daughters are not in any way connected with this incident. It is impossible for girls this
small to be involved in something as despicable
as this. I am sure it is the work of the senior
boys and we will do our very best to get to the
bottom of this and bring the person or persons to
task.’ He paused nervously. ‘But now the tensionin school is so great. I have received quite a few
complaints about your daughters, though they are
not in anyway as bad as this, I insist that for the
good of this institution you’ll have to transfer your
wards to some other school. But don’t worry, ’ he
added hastily when he saw our parents open theirmouths in protest, ‘nothing of this incident will
be mentioned and I’ll give a good report. That’s a
promise.’
The arguments went on for a long time but in
the end the gods were favouring our school head.
Our mothers hugged and consoled each other
while our fathers stoically collected the necessary
documents from a relieved but perspiring
principal. And we left the school on that day for
good.
That day both families were gathered together in
my house and the talks went on till night. Nobody
could come to any useful conclusion and instead
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abused and accused the school for bringing
dishonour upon us.In the midst of this turmoil, Neha and I were
locked in my bathroom.
‘Well Naina our plan was a success.’ Neha said
with appropriate seriousness.
I nodded, my eyes glittering maliciously. I was
surprised at how easily things had worked. It was –as usual –my idea, which Neha executed to
perfection. I still wonder though how she managed
to pick up the dead snake in her hand. We thought
we would be shown no mercy and that we would
be expelled with a bad report. But luckily for us it
did not happen that way. Now we knew that ourpath towards joining boarding school was more or
less obstacle free.
We held hands and recited:
‘We are the smartest. We are the best. We are
the Notorious N’s!’
Now for the next and most important step. We
braced ourselves and walked slowly towards the
hall where everybody was gathered. This was the
moment to tell them of our heart’s desire.
‘We want to join boarding school.’ We
announced.
There was a stunned silence and then the
protests started. My mother and my uncle were
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dead against it. Neha’s parents thought it was a
novel idea. I had an inkling that my uncle guessedsomething was fishy with the whole situation.
The discussions didn’t end that day; instead it
spilled over the next two weeks before they finally
gave in to us. My parents were heart broken but we
were thrilled.
It wasn’t long before the arrangements were
made and soon the day arrived when we had to
leave to Dehradun to our all girls’ boarding school.
Neha’s father knew a close family friend in
Dehradun who would be our local guardian there. We stood in the train waving to our family
feeling a strange sense of liberation.
‘I’ll miss my family.’ I said.
‘Hmm.’
‘But we’ll have a lot of fun.’
‘Without a doubt.’ She said with a crooked
smile.
I smiled as I thought of our boarding school
days.
We lived up to our name. We were feared. We
were hated. And we were adulated. Everybody
knew that we could do things that others could
only fantasise about. We were the girls with the
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solutions to everybody’s problems. But solving
problems was not an easy job. And that’s why we were caned, made to kneel down almost every
class, humiliated in front of the school, made to
run numerous times around the grounds and even
taken to the Principal’s room by the ears among
other punishments. But we still managed to
unscrew the seat of our teacher’s chair, disruptclasses by letting frogs loose, steal question papers,
beat up other school boys and have our share of
midnight capers to say the least.
It was a lot of fun. Just like we had imagined it
to be.
Life is great now too, to miss those days toomuch. I always find it odd when people say that
they want to go back into their past and relive their
school days. When there is only one life to live I
wonder why they want to waste it by going back
and forth and changing decisions or reliving the
good times. You are what you are now because of
your past so why not keep that just as a memory
and go ahead and make new memories?
I picked up my comb and began to work on my
hair. I had thick wavy hair that reached just above
my hips and combing them would take me a good
quarter of an hour. I envied Neha’s hair, which was
straight and barely reached her shoulders, because
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it wouldn’t look any different even if she forgot to
comb them –which she usually did.I looked at myself closely in the mirror. I was
reasonably fair with mostly rounded features. I had
an oval face and big eyes. Many people said that
my eyes looked intelligent –even if I felt like an
idiot most of the time –and that was what made me
charming. But what I thanked God all the time wasfor my clear blemish free skin. Everyday before
going out my mother would put a black spot
behind my ear to shoo away the evil eye so that my
skin remains the way it is.
I picked up my bag in which Neha had put in a
pair of jeans and a T shirt and I put in my comband a lip balm and my psychology book as an after
thought. I put on my socks and shoes, checked
for creases on my uniform and then turned to my
table where I keep a statue of God. I said a silent
prayer asking for blessings and strength for the day.
I glanced at the family photo kept next to the idol.
It was taken sometime last year during my 11th
standard.
After 10th Neha and I were disallowed to
continue in boarding and so we joined 11th and
12th in a co-ed school in Bangalore. Our parents
were relieved to have us back again. I could see
the smiling faces in the photo to be convinced of
that. My father, mother and uncle were hugging
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May 28