Diya

Manu won’t go to sleep. He insists that I tell him a bedtime story. ‘But I don’t want one with a hero in it,’ he says.

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s all lies. No hero comes to save you. Not Salman. Not Shahrukh, not Maharana Pratap, not Chhota Bheem, not anyone!’

‘How do you know?’ I say. ‘We’re just at the wrong part of our story. We’re at the part that is all scary, and it looks like the bad guys are winning and no one is going to help. But the story isn’t over yet. Picture abhi baaki hai, yaar.’

‘Do you think someone will come?’

‘Of course,’ I say, lying.

‘You think it will be my papa?’

‘I bet right this minute your papa is making a really great plan to save you. He is with the police, and they are thinking up a really good plan.’

‘When will he come?’

‘Close your eyes and go to sleep. When you open them, he might be here.’

He finally closes his eyes and is fast asleep in a minute.

Kabir is watching me. He watches me a lot. I wish he would stop. It makes me uncomfortable. It feels like he can see things that I don’t want people to see with those grey eyes of his. He’s a strange boy. I can’t understand him. I only know that he kind of makes me feel safe.

Kabir speaks quietly, trying not to wake Manu. ‘What are you going to tell him when he wakes up and there’s no sign of his dad?’

‘He needs something to believe in. We all do.’

Kabir shrugs. ‘There are no rescues coming.’ There is bitterness in his voice. ‘There are no heroes. There never have been. You just think there are, until you get to know people a little bit better.’

I don’t even know if I want to be rescued any more. It’s so peaceful to be just stuck here in this time. Not to have to think about tomorrow, or the rest of your life and wonder whether you would get married, be happy, be content. Tomorrow might just not exist. It’s terrifying, but also kind of freeing.

‘We should rest,’ I say.

‘I can’t sleep,’ he says. ‘You want to talk for a while?’

‘Yes,’ I say.

‘What would you like to talk about?’

‘About you. I think you should tell me who you really are,’ I say softly.

Kabir freezes. He just sits there, not moving. I watch his eyes to see if he is lying. ‘You keep watching me. You knew I liked bubblegum. Who told you that? Who are you?’

‘Nobody,’ he says. ‘A perfect stranger.’

‘You flung yourself over me to protect me. A perfect stranger doesn’t do that. Who are you?’

‘Nobody at all,’ he insists. ‘Just an ordinary everyday guy stuck in a crazy place. Who likes bubblegum.’

I don’t believe him. ‘Did my father send you? Are you one of his men? Have you been told to keep an eye on me? Report back to him?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘I don’t even know who your father is. Who is he?’

He can’t be my father’s man. Not with the name he accidentally signed on the paper. I don’t answer his question. Instead, I ask him another one.

‘Who are you, Afzal?’

I can see the shock on his face when he hears this. He doesn’t try to deny it. ‘How do you know my name?’

I hand him the drawing that he had signed and given me. ‘Is that your name?’

‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Damn. I didn’t realize I did that.’

‘Is that the truth? Are you telling me the truth?’

He looks up at me and holds my gaze. ‘I swear that is my name. I swear I am from Srinagar. I swear your father didn’t send me.’

I ask him again, ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m an idiot,’ he says. ‘I saw you from across the road. Followed you in. Then I changed my name so I could stay.’

I really wish I could believe him.

‘Why did you follow me?’

He says nothing but he does not meet my eyes.

‘Why do you try to protect me?’

The question seems to make him very angry. ‘Because I’m an idiot! I saw you from across the road and—’

‘Stop!’ I tell him. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see what’s in his eyes as he looks at me. It’s wrong. All wrong.

I take a deep breath and tell him my secret. ‘There is someone I love very much,’ I say. ‘I’m waiting for him. You really shouldn’t hope for anything at all.’

He doesn’t look at me. ‘I’m not hoping for anything at all,’ he says. ‘I’m not hoping. I quit on hoping some time ago.’ He makes it sound so sad. I harden my heart. I don’t want to sympathize with him. I have nothing to give him. Not even kindness.

‘Did you ever want something impossible?’ he asks. ‘I mean, you knew it was impossible, you weren’t hoping, but just for a little while in your head you were pretending it could be real.’

I want to tell him to stop. But I have pretended. I know how it feels.

‘Please,’ I say. ‘It’s no use.’

‘I know,’ he says, ‘but fate has brought me here at this time to be with you. Let me just be here until . . . until whatever is meant to happen, happens.’

‘You mean until we die.’

He looks me in the eye. ‘We’re in the middle of craziness. We’re out of control. We don’t know what’s going to happen. I just want to be there.’

‘I’m afraid of dying alone,’ I whisper.

‘You won’t have to. Maybe that is what fate put me here for. Just to be there for you.’

‘It shouldn’t have been you.’ I put my hands over my face and begin to cry. It shouldn’t have been him. It should have been Aman.

I weep and weep. He makes no move to touch me. Just sits there while I cry. I cry like I have cried night after night for Aman. I cry until the tears run out. Except that they never really do.

‘I think I’ll try to go to sleep,’ I say.

‘You sleep,’ he says. ‘I’ll keep watch.’

I curl up on the floor and close my eyes. I know if I open them, I’ll see him sitting there, watching me. It no longer makes me awkward. I have a friend I can die with.