‘That’s what we thought, too. But we turned out to be wrong. The worries never reduced. I would imagine him chatting with other people while Kumar rode his cycle into traffic. I feared I’d read about Kumar dying tragically, crushed under a lorry as he tried to cross the road. I couldn’t push these thoughts away and, finally, I got fed up of them and sold the cycle.’
Karkhanis paused again. The boss was speechless. Karkhanis continued, ‘My worries reached a new high when Kumar started attending school. He’d be picked up by the school van. I would think of the best place for him to sit. Should it be in the front, rear, left or right? What would be the safest place? I could never decide.’
‘It’s true, these fears are real.’
‘The school excursions were another headache.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘You’re stuck if you send your child, and stuck if you don’t. There are a thousand problems to imagine: how good the teachers will be, whether the other children will behave well, whether they’ll be taken care of, etc. I took a day’s leave to meet the class teacher when they announced a school trip. I asked him if I could join them.
‘The class teacher laughed at me. I had to return home disappointed. But my mind was restless. I stayed at home the whole day. I imagined Kumar going out for a swim alone, despite being told not to. Or climbing a high tree, falling down and breaking his limbs. Or maybe he’d be the only one to not return. Twenty-five students would go for the picnic and only twenty-four would return. Such thoughts would trouble me.
‘The schoolboys would return after the accident. I’d rush to the spot where he was supposed to have drowned. I would sit at the edge of the lake for hours … But nothing of that sort happened. Kumar came back from the picnic happy and cheerful. I was relieved. But that, too, only lasted for a brief while.’
‘Why?’
‘As he grew older, his circle of friends increased. His demands and interests increased. He was too young to protest when I took away his tricycle. But now he was growing up and becoming more and more stubborn. He would argue. He insisted on having a bicycle. What sane person would let their child cycle in this unruly traffic, with double-decker buses zooming around? But then I found out that Kumar was happily riding his friend’s bicycle. I was worried that his friends might not keep their bicycles in perfect condition. He might lose his balance. Keeping this in mind, I was forced to buy him one. But I’d remain constantly worried. The moment I reached office I’d expect the phone to ring, calling me home urgently. I wouldn’t leave my desk lest the call come when I wasn’t around. I’d given all my friends and relatives my office number. In fact, I’d also put a small note in Kumar’s wallet which said: “In case of emergency, call this number.”’
The boss understood that it was good for Karkhanis to vent his feelings. It was good for him to speak. He said,
‘That is a good idea. Every person should take care to keep an in-case-of-emergency number handy.’
Karkhanis was encouraged by the boss’s words. He had done certain things right, after all. He said, ‘I’d check his wallet every four or five days to ensure that the note hadn’t got lost.’
‘You did a lot for your son.’
‘My anxiety was its peak during his matriculation exam results. I had no faith in his performance. I kept a strict watch on him during those days. I made sure he couldn’t find out his results from any private sources. I took leave on the day the results were to be declared. We made sure that someone from the family was with him constantly. He was not to be left alone. I scouted for all the things at home which could be poisonous and locked them in a trunk. That included bedbug spray, a bottle of Dettol, a can of kerosene and so on. I checked his trouser pockets and desk to ensure he hadn’t hidden anything there. And – you won’t believe me, sir – I managed to get a doctor friend of mine to spend the whole day with me, so that he’d be at hand if an emergency were to arise! What do you say to this?’
The phone on the boss’s desk rang. He picked up the phone and said, ‘Yes, yes. He’s here with me,’ and handed the phone to Karkhanis. Karkhanis talked on the phone, then continued,
‘This girl is also crazy – Kumar’s fiancée. She wanted to know if I was all right. She knows how much I loved him. She remembers the tough questions she had to face before I gave my consent. I had asked her so many times whether she really loved Kumar.’
‘Why?’
‘A love marriage is as unpredictable as the matriculation results. We can prepare for everything but the results might still turn out to be bad. We cannot trust the youth today, young women included. They change their likes and dislikes the way they change their dresses. I only wanted to ensure that Kumar didn’t spoil his entire life chasing the wrong woman. My doubts were assuaged, but the fears always remained.’
‘What fears?’
‘I feared she might be in love with someone other than Kumar. It wasn’t true, of course. But one couldn’t rule out someone else being in love with her. I would then fear the worst. Someone may kill Kumar for revenge. I’d wonder how I could protect Kumar from that. I told them not to meet in restaurants alone. The kind girl agreed to all my conditions. They never disobeyed me or went against my wishes. She never cheated us. I guess, in the end, Kumar cheated her.’
‘Not just her, Mr Karkhanis. Kumar cheated all of us.’
‘No, sir. He didn’t cheat me. He fooled me all of his life,
