| |
Anuj moved into his allotted room on the ground floor. The room was in fact better than the one he had seen earlier on his round with Kevin. It was literally a dream come true.
Anuj immediately got down to unpacking and hanging his clothes in the wardrobe. Then he took his empty suitcase to Dan to help put it in the store room. It all took him an hour or so before he was through.
The lone big square English window was shut tight. Anuj thought some fresh air will do him good. So he tried to open the window, but the window opened only half-way. Why?
The answer was staring him at his face. To prevent theft, of course. The window was big enough for any man to leap inside; so it had to be prevented from opening completely.
Just then it started raining again. Anuj enjoyed watching those fine sprinkle of droplets falling from the grey sky. The other brick red buildings in the area added a lot of charm to the view from his bedroom.
Anuj’s eye fell on his watch. It was almost 1 p.m. Lunch time.
Anuj pulled the window down and moved out of the room. He paused for a moment to look for the door keys and then remembered. No locks.
So he pulled the door shut and walked through the long corridor to go up the staircase. When he reached the first floor, he saw the dining room was locked. But there was a queue building up outside. Anuj moved forwards and joined the queue. After about five minutes, he heard a click sound, and the door opened. Everyone moved in.
The place smelled of something British: like roast chicken with gravy. The smell was making Anuj’s mouth water. So he followed the other students, and grabbing a big dark brown tray, a fork, a knife and a spoon, moved towards the counter.
Whoa, it was indeed roast chicken! Anuj felt so vindicated. A fat black lady wearing a white apron and a chef’s hat served him a nice big piece of chicken breast with roasted potatoes and some sautéed peas and carrots. She poured some gravy on top of the chicken breast. Anuj took his plate and sat down at the nearest table.
The dining room was huge with three long tables placed in rows and a few round tables scattered around.
Anuj was relishing his food quietly—enjoying the subtle flavour of the roast chicken and the potatoes. Back home, he could have asked for a little more salt but here he remained mum for the fear of offending the cook.
The dining hall was slowly filling in. Anuj was surprised to hear the discussions students were having.
In St. Stephen’s college, boys only spoke about “hot chicks.” But here the conversations revolved around science and religion, man and God, the theories behind the creation of the Universe, the dangers of stem cell research... How very intellectual! Anuj was dying to join in, but he didn’t yet know a soul.
Just then he heard a voice asking permission to sit down next to him. As Anuj nodded, he realised it was a Catholic priest joining him. He wore a black robe and had a shining bald pate. He looked to be in his mid-forties. The most striking feature of the priest was his—warm blue eyes. The eyes radiated a lot of compassion and love.
Such a man could have been a loving father, husband or a son. What was he then doing here as a priest? Anuj knew that Catholic priests had to take a vow of celibacy and break all formal ties with their families. What was this priest’s story? Why didn’t he follow the traditional path of finding a job or wife?
Anuj was determined to do one thing — permit no girl to break his heart again. It was better any day to remain celibate than to be in a shallow relationship with a woman that was going nowhere. Anuj took a sigh of relief. Thank God, he was away from women, for a change.
“I’ve never seen you before. Have you joined today?” asked the priest settling down.
“Yes, father. I have just moved in. I’m Anuj... Anuj Kaul.”
“Hi Anuj. I’m Father Williams.”
“Nice meeting you, father.”
“Where are you studying?” asked Fr. Williams adjusting his napkin.
“At UCL. For my LLB,” said Anuj.
“Very impressive,” said Fr. Williams.
Both started eating silently. Fr. Williams stared at Anuj’s food for a nanosecond.
“It’s good to know that you’re not a vegetarian. Being a vegetarian could be a little tough in London.”
Anuj smiled.
“Where are you from?”
“I’m from India, Father,” said Anuj.
“Did you come here alone?”
“Yes, I did,” said Anuj.
“I must say you’re very brave,” said Fr. Williams.
Anuj smiled.
“How are you coping with the weather?”
“I’m loving it,” said Anuj.
“But isn’t it a bit too cold for you,” said Fr. Williams.
“No, I love cold weather. I don’t actually like hot weather,” replied Anuj.
Fr. Williams smiled. “It looks like you’re adjusting well.”
Anuj smiled back. There was silence for a few minutes. Both were now polishing off the remnants on their plates.
“You don’t have typical Indian features, I say” commented Fr. Williams breaking the silence.
“Huh?” said Anuj.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” said Fr. Williams. His eyes narrowed, and he looked somewhat embarrassed.
“I mean you have a sharp nose, grey eyes, brown hair and your complexion is fairer than that of an average Indian,” said Fr. Williams.
“You’re right. But that’s because I come from the Himalayan region where such features are commonplace,” said Anuj.
He didn’t want to mention Kashmir because of the reputation that the place had created for itself—with guns, bloodshed and unbridled violence in the last few decades.
“Ah—I see. Are you a Hindu?” asked Fr. Williams.
Anuj nodded.
“Do you believe in rebirth?”
Anuj stared at Fr. Williams for a second trying to gather his thoughts.
“I don’t know. Well, there is no evidence to prove it,” said Anuj.
“It’s the same here. Nobody has proved what happens after you die. Do you go to heaven? Or do you float somewhere in the air? Or do you even have a soul? Or... Well, now my imagination is running out of scenarios. No scientist has been able to prove that heaven exists. But I believe it exists. Sometimes what you believe is more important than what is proven right,” smiled Fr. Williams.
There was something so nice about the way Fr. Williams spoke. Anuj found his voice to be comforting as if he was at home and chatting up with his father. He had forgotten that he was in a foreign land, getting immersed in a foreign culture.
“I think you’re right. Some people have claimed that they saw themselves in a tunnel moving towards some light when they were dying. But I’m not sure whether that is sufficient evidence for heaven,” said Anuj.
“However, there was a case in India in the 1930s where a woman could recall her entire life in one of her previous births,” added Anuj.
“Really?” Fr. Williams was incredulous.
“Yes. When she was four years old, she told her parents that her real home was in Mathura, in Northern India. And that she was married when she was still in school, and died ten days after giving birth to a child. When the girl was interviewed by her headmaster, she even recalled the name of her husband. The school headmaster located a merchant of the same name in Mathura. The merchant told the headmaster that he had indeed lost his wife in child birth. Intrigued, the merchant visited the girl in Delhi not disclosing his identity.
“To his surprise, the girl immediately recognised him. Not only that, she even remembered the private conversations no one knew about. The merchant was convinced that the girl was a reincarnate of his dead wife,” said Anuj.
“Intriguing,” said Fr. Williams.
“But I’m still not sure whether this proves that everyone is reborn or that only some people are reborn. Or maybe the story was a big hoax fabricated by a clever journalist. I really don’t know,” said Anuj.
Fr. Williams laughed. His warm blue eyes twinkled with interest.
Whoa, what an intellectual discussion, Anuj thought.
Both were silent for a moment when Anuj remembered something.
“Father, I need a small favour,” said Anuj.
“Sure, tell me.”
“Father, I need to attend an orientation programme tomorrow morning. I’m new to London and still don’t know where UCL is. I know it is somewhere close by but I don’t know the exact way. If you know someone who studies at UCL, could you ask him to give me the directions,” said Anuj.
“No problem. There are many students here who study at UCL. But I’m going there tomorrow myself for a conference on religion and science. If you want, you can come with me. It is just a 15 minute travel by tube,” said Fr. Williams.
“That’d be great. By the way, father, why is the metro called a tube here?” asked Anuj.
“Oh—the London underground is a good 150 years old. The tunnels constructed then were round as they are now too. Just like a tube. So the name stuck,” smiled Fr. Williams.
“Now it makes sense,” Anuj smiled back.
Just then, a tall skinny Sikh boy sporting a beard and a black turban joined them. He had intense eyes that his spectacles could barely mask.
“Anuj—meet Harpal Singh. Hi Harpal, meet Anuj. He has joined us today. Harpal’s been with Netherhall for over a year. And he’s also from India,” said Fr. Williams introducing both.
“Hi Harpal,” said Anuj.
“Hey Anuj, what’s up,” said Harpal.
“Nothing much,” replied Anuj.
Harpal Singh took his seat. He took out some chilli flakes and started sprinkling it over his roast chicken.
Anuj was aghast. Why Indians can’t enjoy subtle flavours, he thought. Why this constant need to spice things up.
Fr. Williams stared at Harpal’s plate for a moment and then looked back at Anuj.
“Anuj, do you too find the food bland here,” asked Fr. Williams.
“Oh no, not at all. I love the subtle flavours,” said an enthusiastic Anuj.
“Come on. You don’t need to be polite. Tell him the truth,” grinned Harpal.
“No, seriously I love the food. I actually hate chillies,” said Anuj.
Harpal stared at Anuj in amazement.
“Really? You got to be kidding,” said Harpal.
“Then you’re not a certified Indian,” laughed Fr. Williams.
“Yeah, maybe. Who knows? I may have been a Victorian gentleman in my previous birth,” joked Anuj.
All three laughed.
“You should take good care of Anuj,” said Fr. Williams to Harpal getting up.
The lunch was over and Anuj had just survived his first day in London.
