Project Heart - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
You are reading Project Heart, Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Read more chapters of Project Heart.
Junak kept sitting on the sand bed. He wasn't sure why or for how long but he just stayed there after Dikhou left. Unmoving. Staring at the flowing water. Whatever thoughts passed through his numbed mind left as soon as they came.
He felt tired. His body felt heavy.
At thirty minutes past one, Jatin came looking for him. "Junak-da, you didn't come for lunch so koka asked me to fetch you."
Junak looked up at him. Almost as tall as Junak, he was big and looked more mature than his age. "Jatin, I-I'm so s-sorry about what happened this morning," he said, his voice low and coarse.
Jatin's eyebrows shot up in surprise, before settling on a bright expression. "Aiyo, Junak-da, why are you apologising? It's no problem, really."
Junak wanted to argue, tell him no, it was wrong, but he had no energy left. He got to his feet and followed Jatin back to the house.
Everyone, barring Dikhou who did not show up, was waiting for him. The guilt of it further squeezed at his heart and his throat. He felt numbed with exhaustion.
He ate in silence with his head downcast.
Is everything okay, Junak? They asked.
He nodded.
Weren't you with Dikhou? Where is he?
I don't know.
Did something happen?
No.
Are you feeling ill?
No.
Do you want anything?
No.
His grandparents retired to rest after the meal and Junak dragged his feet to his room. Well, to his father's room. On his second day, while he was arranging his things in the wardrobe, he had found a whole chest of photographs tucked away in a corner. He glanced at one – it was when his father was a teenager and he was standing next to a boy with a mess of curly hair. Both of them were smiling, their arms around each other. It annoyed Junak, though he wasn't sure why. So he shoved the pictures away and vowed to not think about his father for the rest of his stay there.
It was difficult, but he managed.
And now, he was just too exhausted to be bothered by it.
Niribili came to him first. Then Banhi. Both with the same questions – What happened? Did Dikhou do something? Is it something regarding the Diamond Jury? Is it your parents?
Junak, talk to me.
He muttered small one-word answers and then asked to be left alone.
He curled up on the bed, under the blanket, and mindlessly scrolled through his Instagram feed. Sometime in the middle of it, he fell asleep.
Waking up, hours later, when Grandma called him for evening tea, he did not feel any better.
His grandparents and his friends were sitting outside on the front lawn, basking in the waning sunlight. Junak sat next to his grandfather, with his knees pulled up to his chest, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. Niribili and Grandma were talking about the older woman's school days. Banhi was going through her camera. Grandpa sat talking with an old man from the village.
Even with so many people around, Junak felt utterly alone. He shrugged it off as one of his low days, which meant this feeling would pass, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded in fooling himself. This loneliness he felt was like a rot in the bones, ever-present and unyielding.
No one wanted him there. His grandparents let him stay because he was their flesh and bones so they were obliged to treat him well. And his friends – well, they were nice, yes, but he would see them share secret smiles, walk around hand in hand, and an impossible ache would settle over his heart. It was cold. So, so cold.
Dikhou told him he was just like his father. Junak wondered if it was indeed true – like his father, he had made his work his whole life because he knew nothing else about him mattered. Because he did not have anything else to offer. There was no one who wanted him, no one who lent him a shoulder, no one who listened to him.
First his family. Then his schoolmates. Then his girlfriend for four years. Everyone left, and though Dikhou's sudden burst of accusations made no sense, maybe there were truths to it. Maybe it was just Junak who couldn't see it.
Niribili had her family, Banhi had her friends. Junak had... no one.
The cruellest thing was how, even after all these years of his familiarity with loneliness, it still pulsed and hurt like a fresh wound.
"Junak."
His grandfather's expression made it obvious that he had been calling Junak for more than once. "Yes, koka?"
"Bhaskar here was asking you about college." He gestured at his companion.
"Sorry." Junak forced an apologetic smile – internally straining from the effort – and shook his head. "What were you saying?"
The man laughed and asked Junak about his college expenses.
Talking about his parents' money in front of his grandparents made Junak uncomfortable. But there was no way he could dodge the question without coming off as rude. And another person thinking him rude was the last thing he wanted. "It is a little expensive. The tuition costs are high, and even if one manages to get a scholarship, there's the high cost of living."
The man nodded, then added, "I'm just asking." He chuckled. "My granddaughters keep watching all these English shows. I don't understand a thing."
Junak forced a smile.
"Niyor must be doing very well these days, eh, to be able to send you to such an expensive college?"
Junak had no idea what to say to that. He looked at his grandfather; the man's usual amiable smile had vanished.
"Say, Nildeep, he hasn't been here for a long time," Bhaskar continued. Junak wasn't sure if he was just clueless or purposefully poking the wound. "Why is that?"
Grandpa did not answer.
In a surge of panic, Junak said, "He stays really busy. Even I barely get to see him."
It was when his grandfather turned to him with a hard expression etched on his face that Junak realised he must've said something he shouldn't have. "Niyor doesn't have time to see you?" Grandpa asked.
This was the first time they were talking about the man connecting them as family. And for a brief second, a wild, crazy second, Junak wanted to tell his grandfather everything. That yes, he barely has time for me. He has no idea what I'm doing with my life. I don't even know if he loves me. I don't think he does.
He did not, of course. He couldn't. He just said, "I mean, with me going to America and all. And before that, I was in Delhi for my undergrad."
Grandpa looked away, letting it drop. From the corner of his eyes, Junak saw his grandmother eying her husband, concern clear on her face.
"Now that you're here, Junak, ask Niyor to drop by as well, whenever he's free," Bhaskar said. "It's been so many years since I last saw him." He broke off, frowning. "I don't think he came even for Luit's funeral, did he?"
If Grandpa was displeased before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now – his expression turning dark. "No." There was a slight tremble in his voice that chilled Junak.
Bhaskar sighed. "It's a pity, what happened. Luit and Niyor were near inseparable as kids, were they not?"
Sensing the shift in her husband's mood, Junak's grandmother interrupted with a casual query about Bhaskar's daughter-in-law. The man shook his head and started talking to her, dropping the topic about Junak's father.
Junak saw his grandfather visibly relax.
Dikhou saying you are just like your father with venom in his voice echoed in Junak's head again. He had always guessed that his grandparents' displeasure came from the fact that their son never visited them, but now, it seemed to Junak that there were perhaps a lot more things at play here.
But there was no one he could ask.
Junak was zoning out, his eyes focused at the distance, when a familiar figure entered his line of sight, snapping him to the present.
Dikhou was on a motorbike, Lohor perched behind him. He had slowed down the bike as he neared their gate, probably meaning to stop, when his eyes met Junak's.
Defiantly, Junak caught it and did not let go.
Dikhou looked away and was about to speed off when the people sitting on the lawn noticed him and beckoned him over.
"Where are you off to?" Grandma cried. "You didn't come for lunch."
"Sorry, aita." Without another option, Dikhou stopped the bike but did not get down.
"Come, come, sit with us," Bhaskar added.
Dikhou did not move. Lohor raised a hand and shouted, "Do you have that special biscuit, aita?"
The woman laughed. "What, you'll only sit with me if I have your favourite biscuit? Is that how much you love your grandma?"
"Aiyo, aita!" Lohor exclaimed and got off the bike. Or at least, he tried to. Dikhou grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, preventing his escape.
"We're running an errand, aita," Dikhou said. "Can't stop now." He then turned to the kid and said something in a hushed voice that did not reach Junak. Lohor pouted in response and animatedly whispered back.
Junak kept watching.
After a while, Lohor turned to the group of elders and shouted, "I'll see you tomorrow. Keep the biscuits ready."
Dikhou smacked him upside the head.
Grandma laughed. "Okay, Lohor."
As Dikhou turned on the ignition, Junak, in a moment of impulse, jumped to his feet, shocking all the people sitting beside him. Just as Dikhou made to leave, he ran towards the gate. "Wait!"
Dikhou did not stop.
Junak ran past the gate, pulling his beanie closer over his ears. "Wait," he cried, running after the bike. Lohor turned in his seat to look at him, grinning from ear to ear like the bastard he was.
Dikhou pretended he couldn't hear him.
Junak, angry and determined and absolutely out of his mind, kept running. He could tell that the villagers were looking and laughing at him but he was too far gone to care.
After what felt likes miles, Dikhou finally stopped. Junak reached him, huffing, his thighs burning. "The fuck," he wheezed, doubling over.
"Hey, Junak," Dikhou feigned surprise, like he hadn't just purposely made Junak run halfway through the village. "Is there something you want?"
Junak was too wound up to speak. Now that he was no longer running, the strain of his action dawned on him. His limbs were shaking and it felt like there was sand in his throat. A headache tugged at his temples and damnit, did his lungs forget how to function?!
"Hey, are you okay?" Lohor jumped off the bike and walked up to Junak. He studied the older man, then turned to Dikhou. "I think he's going to pass out."
"I'm not gonna–" Junak broke off as the world began spinning all around him. He took a step to steady himself but lost his footing and fell, just as he did, indeed, pass out.
He felt tired. His body felt heavy.
At thirty minutes past one, Jatin came looking for him. "Junak-da, you didn't come for lunch so koka asked me to fetch you."
Junak looked up at him. Almost as tall as Junak, he was big and looked more mature than his age. "Jatin, I-I'm so s-sorry about what happened this morning," he said, his voice low and coarse.
Jatin's eyebrows shot up in surprise, before settling on a bright expression. "Aiyo, Junak-da, why are you apologising? It's no problem, really."
Junak wanted to argue, tell him no, it was wrong, but he had no energy left. He got to his feet and followed Jatin back to the house.
Everyone, barring Dikhou who did not show up, was waiting for him. The guilt of it further squeezed at his heart and his throat. He felt numbed with exhaustion.
He ate in silence with his head downcast.
Is everything okay, Junak? They asked.
He nodded.
Weren't you with Dikhou? Where is he?
I don't know.
Did something happen?
No.
Are you feeling ill?
No.
Do you want anything?
No.
His grandparents retired to rest after the meal and Junak dragged his feet to his room. Well, to his father's room. On his second day, while he was arranging his things in the wardrobe, he had found a whole chest of photographs tucked away in a corner. He glanced at one – it was when his father was a teenager and he was standing next to a boy with a mess of curly hair. Both of them were smiling, their arms around each other. It annoyed Junak, though he wasn't sure why. So he shoved the pictures away and vowed to not think about his father for the rest of his stay there.
It was difficult, but he managed.
And now, he was just too exhausted to be bothered by it.
Niribili came to him first. Then Banhi. Both with the same questions – What happened? Did Dikhou do something? Is it something regarding the Diamond Jury? Is it your parents?
Junak, talk to me.
He muttered small one-word answers and then asked to be left alone.
He curled up on the bed, under the blanket, and mindlessly scrolled through his Instagram feed. Sometime in the middle of it, he fell asleep.
Waking up, hours later, when Grandma called him for evening tea, he did not feel any better.
His grandparents and his friends were sitting outside on the front lawn, basking in the waning sunlight. Junak sat next to his grandfather, with his knees pulled up to his chest, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. Niribili and Grandma were talking about the older woman's school days. Banhi was going through her camera. Grandpa sat talking with an old man from the village.
Even with so many people around, Junak felt utterly alone. He shrugged it off as one of his low days, which meant this feeling would pass, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded in fooling himself. This loneliness he felt was like a rot in the bones, ever-present and unyielding.
No one wanted him there. His grandparents let him stay because he was their flesh and bones so they were obliged to treat him well. And his friends – well, they were nice, yes, but he would see them share secret smiles, walk around hand in hand, and an impossible ache would settle over his heart. It was cold. So, so cold.
Dikhou told him he was just like his father. Junak wondered if it was indeed true – like his father, he had made his work his whole life because he knew nothing else about him mattered. Because he did not have anything else to offer. There was no one who wanted him, no one who lent him a shoulder, no one who listened to him.
First his family. Then his schoolmates. Then his girlfriend for four years. Everyone left, and though Dikhou's sudden burst of accusations made no sense, maybe there were truths to it. Maybe it was just Junak who couldn't see it.
Niribili had her family, Banhi had her friends. Junak had... no one.
The cruellest thing was how, even after all these years of his familiarity with loneliness, it still pulsed and hurt like a fresh wound.
"Junak."
His grandfather's expression made it obvious that he had been calling Junak for more than once. "Yes, koka?"
"Bhaskar here was asking you about college." He gestured at his companion.
"Sorry." Junak forced an apologetic smile – internally straining from the effort – and shook his head. "What were you saying?"
The man laughed and asked Junak about his college expenses.
Talking about his parents' money in front of his grandparents made Junak uncomfortable. But there was no way he could dodge the question without coming off as rude. And another person thinking him rude was the last thing he wanted. "It is a little expensive. The tuition costs are high, and even if one manages to get a scholarship, there's the high cost of living."
The man nodded, then added, "I'm just asking." He chuckled. "My granddaughters keep watching all these English shows. I don't understand a thing."
Junak forced a smile.
"Niyor must be doing very well these days, eh, to be able to send you to such an expensive college?"
Junak had no idea what to say to that. He looked at his grandfather; the man's usual amiable smile had vanished.
"Say, Nildeep, he hasn't been here for a long time," Bhaskar continued. Junak wasn't sure if he was just clueless or purposefully poking the wound. "Why is that?"
Grandpa did not answer.
In a surge of panic, Junak said, "He stays really busy. Even I barely get to see him."
It was when his grandfather turned to him with a hard expression etched on his face that Junak realised he must've said something he shouldn't have. "Niyor doesn't have time to see you?" Grandpa asked.
This was the first time they were talking about the man connecting them as family. And for a brief second, a wild, crazy second, Junak wanted to tell his grandfather everything. That yes, he barely has time for me. He has no idea what I'm doing with my life. I don't even know if he loves me. I don't think he does.
He did not, of course. He couldn't. He just said, "I mean, with me going to America and all. And before that, I was in Delhi for my undergrad."
Grandpa looked away, letting it drop. From the corner of his eyes, Junak saw his grandmother eying her husband, concern clear on her face.
"Now that you're here, Junak, ask Niyor to drop by as well, whenever he's free," Bhaskar said. "It's been so many years since I last saw him." He broke off, frowning. "I don't think he came even for Luit's funeral, did he?"
If Grandpa was displeased before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now – his expression turning dark. "No." There was a slight tremble in his voice that chilled Junak.
Bhaskar sighed. "It's a pity, what happened. Luit and Niyor were near inseparable as kids, were they not?"
Sensing the shift in her husband's mood, Junak's grandmother interrupted with a casual query about Bhaskar's daughter-in-law. The man shook his head and started talking to her, dropping the topic about Junak's father.
Junak saw his grandfather visibly relax.
Dikhou saying you are just like your father with venom in his voice echoed in Junak's head again. He had always guessed that his grandparents' displeasure came from the fact that their son never visited them, but now, it seemed to Junak that there were perhaps a lot more things at play here.
But there was no one he could ask.
Junak was zoning out, his eyes focused at the distance, when a familiar figure entered his line of sight, snapping him to the present.
Dikhou was on a motorbike, Lohor perched behind him. He had slowed down the bike as he neared their gate, probably meaning to stop, when his eyes met Junak's.
Defiantly, Junak caught it and did not let go.
Dikhou looked away and was about to speed off when the people sitting on the lawn noticed him and beckoned him over.
"Where are you off to?" Grandma cried. "You didn't come for lunch."
"Sorry, aita." Without another option, Dikhou stopped the bike but did not get down.
"Come, come, sit with us," Bhaskar added.
Dikhou did not move. Lohor raised a hand and shouted, "Do you have that special biscuit, aita?"
The woman laughed. "What, you'll only sit with me if I have your favourite biscuit? Is that how much you love your grandma?"
"Aiyo, aita!" Lohor exclaimed and got off the bike. Or at least, he tried to. Dikhou grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, preventing his escape.
"We're running an errand, aita," Dikhou said. "Can't stop now." He then turned to the kid and said something in a hushed voice that did not reach Junak. Lohor pouted in response and animatedly whispered back.
Junak kept watching.
After a while, Lohor turned to the group of elders and shouted, "I'll see you tomorrow. Keep the biscuits ready."
Dikhou smacked him upside the head.
Grandma laughed. "Okay, Lohor."
As Dikhou turned on the ignition, Junak, in a moment of impulse, jumped to his feet, shocking all the people sitting beside him. Just as Dikhou made to leave, he ran towards the gate. "Wait!"
Dikhou did not stop.
Junak ran past the gate, pulling his beanie closer over his ears. "Wait," he cried, running after the bike. Lohor turned in his seat to look at him, grinning from ear to ear like the bastard he was.
Dikhou pretended he couldn't hear him.
Junak, angry and determined and absolutely out of his mind, kept running. He could tell that the villagers were looking and laughing at him but he was too far gone to care.
After what felt likes miles, Dikhou finally stopped. Junak reached him, huffing, his thighs burning. "The fuck," he wheezed, doubling over.
"Hey, Junak," Dikhou feigned surprise, like he hadn't just purposely made Junak run halfway through the village. "Is there something you want?"
Junak was too wound up to speak. Now that he was no longer running, the strain of his action dawned on him. His limbs were shaking and it felt like there was sand in his throat. A headache tugged at his temples and damnit, did his lungs forget how to function?!
"Hey, are you okay?" Lohor jumped off the bike and walked up to Junak. He studied the older man, then turned to Dikhou. "I think he's going to pass out."
"I'm not gonna–" Junak broke off as the world began spinning all around him. He took a step to steady himself but lost his footing and fell, just as he did, indeed, pass out.
End of Project Heart Chapter 9. Continue reading Chapter 10 or return to Project Heart book page.