I am no more a teenager

It has been half an hour since our bus started its journey from Chennai. Venkat is absorbed into a mesmerizing world of his own. He has his girlfriend on the other end of the phone. They are allegedly squabbling. “Allegedly” because I can only see him blushing fulltime.“Squabbling” because I had to trust his word. Gautam is in an equally compelling world. He is busy raving his favorite film star Rajnikanth defying basic laws of Science. It must be the hundredth time he watches that movie. It seems to me that I am the only person sitting anxious. I am guilty, I am perplexed. Even the fact that tomorrow will be my birthday is bringing me no bliss.

Am I not justified? Am I that lame a person? I find all these questions rhetoric all of a sudden. Any other day, the answer would have been NO, pointblank. I felt odd when I handed the two hundred rupees to the conductor. “The two hundred rupees”, the root to all those questions. Perhaps, It has denied me all the delight I would have got tomorrow. Is it worth it after all? It was the money I got from Koushik. Koushik, an yesteryear passout from my college. He is working and has earned himself a reputable living.

It was mid April, last year. Koushik was searching for a plain shirt to wear it for the farewell. I helped him with mine. I went home for a fortnight long study holiday. When I returned to the college, I asked Gautam to get the shirt back from him. Gautam was closer to him and would visit him often. Gautam came back and revealed that Koushik has misplaced my shirt.

A week later, I asked Koushik, if he had found it? He started searching it exhaustively. He searched for it in the hangers, in the adjacent rooms, in the to-be-washed bags, his briefcases, the corners of the room, under the cots, and in all weird places. He even called someone to ask about my shirt. After an hour of intensive search, he came back with a question to me, and not the shirt as I expected.

He asked me, “How much does the shirt cost”.

I replied, “Priceless!!!”

After a brief moment o disturbing silence, I continued, “That is the shirt I wore to get my first job”. That happened to be the only time I wore it.

Few days later, I discovered that, Gautam informed him it costs eight hundred rupees. He would pay me the amount, I was informed. Exams were nearing its end. I didn’t bother to ask him, basically for three reasons. One, He did not wear it to lose it. Ironically, He borrowed someone else’s shirt which best fitted him. Two, I didn’t feel courageous to ask money in return to a shirt, considering the fact that it is a day to day object. It was also a fear of will-be-hated if I asked the money. It was a complex feeling. I don’t really know why I felt that. Lastly, the most important, What ever that shirt means to me could not have appealed to him. I don’t want to put a tag to my sentiment.

After nine months, I happened to meet him today. Gautam and Venkat were teasing him for not giving me the money. He just smiled at them. After he left I sent him a message which read “As I am financially unstable now, I am surfaced with a normal human tendency to find a simple solution to ease out of it. Could you please help me out of it, can you give me some money. Never mind full. Only if you really don’t mind”. All I did for the next half hour was to wait for a reply. To my dismay, it never did come. We met again in the evening. He asked me if I really meant the message. I would have loved to say no. But, I said a big yes.

He said, “I can afford only two hundred now.”

I replied shamelessly, “Its okay”.

The two hundred is now in the hands of the conductor. I am wondering, how I could ever succumb for a mere two hundred rupees. I have sold my sentiment. The thing I called priceless is sold, to one forth its original price. Is money that valuable? It is not… Why did I surrender myself under pressure? I could see a thousand simple ways out of it right now. Can I consider this as a debt and return it back to him? This is not a responsible answer to my inner self. This is conceivably even worse. This answer will make me introspect as a person with no mettle to accept his gaffe.

I see my phone ringing. I attend to hear my first wish for the birthday.

I am out of my teenage and I am still feeling guilty…