Page 76 - Musings 2022

‘My legs are feeling better today. Standing on my own is still a pain, but I can at least get up
from the wheelchair with crutches.’
He looks as if about to say something, but doesn’t.
Instead, he is repeating some variation of what Seema has been saying before, but I can only
focus on his face. My friend, Kunal – we have known each other since college. He visits me
often and I also used to go to his place every now and then. However, I am realising something
now. He is supposed to be the same age as me – 42 – but looks really aged. He looked like he
was hitting his mid-60s.
‘Were you always this old, Kunal?’ I thoughtlessly ask.
He is visibly staggered. It is obvious he was not expecting something like this.
‘What are you on about, you bastard,’ he speaks with a hint of a smile. ‘We are both growing
old, and you might not be, but I am really sensitive about it. So yes, I was not always this old.’
I cannot help laughing at this.
‘Sorry about that. Sometimes my mind just wanders off. But coming back to what you were
saying, don’t worry about it. I am doing fine – all of this will be over soon.’
Kunal is not smiling any more.
‘Vicky…’ he sighs. In this one word, he has placed all his distress. Vicky – that one word is
enough. This single word is just a symbol of everyone’s scepticism in reality. The connotations
of this one word are making me hate the word itself. And once again, I cannot remember where
this nickname comes from.
I want to ask Kunal about it, but the atmosphere has turned heavy for such a frivolous question.
What he wants is a serious discussion.
‘How much has Seema told you?’ I ask him.
‘She was crying, and asked me for help. She was scared of what you might do to yourself.’
My face twists in a scowl.
‘It is after I explained everything to her.’ I shake my head in disappointment. ‘Will you hear
this please. I will begin from the beginning.’
I explain my childhood to him along with the disturbing chain of events around my father. And
as the story goes on, Kunal’s face grows more and more horrified.
‘What happened after that?’ He is livid.
‘For his ritual, he needed my blood. So he cuts me in the palm and sprinkles some blood on
that circle. I don’t remember much after that, but my mother returned soon after that. They had
a big fight, and she called the police on him. He escaped with some of his stuff and vanished
from our lives thereon.’
Kunal has been listening with a held breath.
‘This whole thing is horrible! Why did you never speak about this before today?’ He sounds
genuinely hurt.
‘It’ll only bother you. Besides, there was no need for this in my life before now.’
‘How is this important now?’ he is perplexed.
‘Kunal, this is the part where I lose Seema every time. So, even if you don’t agree with me, let
me finish.’
He nods.
‘That tale of Tatakshya is not a myth – it is true. And so is the magic in it. The curse of
Tatakshya is that anyone coming after the treasure will lose either his torso, or his body waist

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