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‘Uttam Trivedi’, announced the door-place in black on gold, ‘Asst. Professor’. I knocked at the door. “Come in,” came the call and in went me and Khosla. I must say photographs lie a lot but not this man’s. in fact, it had understand the amiability of the face. The man, even with his moustache, looked the most harmless I had seen. I hoped he’d prove to be as friendly, and remembered the adage about appearances being deceptive.

“Yes?” he said cordially.
“Sir,” said Khosla, “I am Anand, the Class Representative of the Industrial and Production Department…” and, after telling him about the tour, he asked, “I’d like to know if you could accompany us on the tour.” He was damn courteous.
“Where do we go?” asked our man.
“Sir, Pune and Goa,” I replied, adding as much courtesy to my tone as I could.
“Why me?” he asked laughing.
“Sir,” I said, “I happened to see you, once, saving the life of a kitten. Ever since, I have yearned to be associated with you. You won’t teach us any course, I guess; so this is only chance we have to spend quality time with such a noble soul!”
“Oh,” he said, blushing, “Don’t embarrass me. So you saw me save that poor thing’s life. I love animals, you see.”
“Me too, sir,” I smiled back at him, “Sir, it will be great if you can come with us. Students will learn a lot.”
“Yes, sir!” added Khosla.
“Oh, yes, I would love to, tell me the dates.”
“Sir, 10^th we leave and return on the 22^nd, said Khosla. “Okay,” he said, thinking.
“Sir,” I added, “Goa is a nice and you can take along your wife and kids too. It’ll be enjoyable.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, “It’ll be a nice surprise for Kittu!” “Yes, sir, ma’am will be delighted.”
“Oh, no, kittu is my sun, eight years old!”
“Kittu, of course, will be delighted too, sir!”
I almost danced with joy that moment. Things were finally falling into place. Good omen, I thought. Khosla produced a sheet in front of the professor and told him to sign somewhere. He did that happily.
“I love students,” he said, smiling one of his best ones, “I never miss any chance of interacting with them.”
“Thank you, sir,” we both said.
“Just a minute,” he stopped us, as we were about to leave, “What is your name?” he asked me.
“Sir, I am Tejas. I am helping Anand with the arrangements for the tour. There is so much work to do. I thought I’d lend a hand.” “Oh, a gem of a thought. Always help others.”
“Yes, sir, one strives to,” I replied, and we moved out. I shook Khosla’s hands.

The work was done. Our man was in. thankfully, appearances aren’t always deceptive. I wondered, in amazement, at the existence of such professors in IIT. And the fact brought solace to the heart. Not all professors were brutal; some had their in place. I moved along happily, but a small thing troubled me, I’d have to lie to that gem of a man. But then, I was lying to my parents too. It didn’t make me happy but it had to be done. I sought forgiveness from God.

You could quite say that I was on a roll. Things were finally falling neatly into their respective places. You are, I am sure, familiar – if you have not been too bored with these memories of mile, and dozed off, and the pages have been fluttered by a passing wind, and, waking up, you assume that this is where you left off, for the number on the page tells you that the torture won’t last for long – with the latest happenings, the withdrawal of Professor P.P. Sidhu and the adroit appointment of a befitting proxy. And I am sure, in the wake of these extremely desirable developments, you are saying to yourself again, “Ah! He has done it again; he is a man with the strongest of will and the strangest of brains! God bless him!”

I take these compliments with a humble bow. To find me hence, with my head in my hands, a deep furrow in my brow and a brooding look in my eyes; you will, no doubt, b appalled. You will hasten, like a true friend, to tell me that the sun is out, and I should be swaying to salsa than sit sadly of my sofa. But I will tell you the reason, and right away.

It is dashed difficult, I tell you, this bloody business of getting one’s foot broken. It seems simple, but, going a little deep into the whole matter, you find it a muddle of the first degree. It is not the breaking of the foot, but the events that should follow the damage, which are extremely murky.

If you are not as dim, if I may use the reference again, as the bulb of my room, you would have gathered that I don’t actually need to break my foot. I mean, I don’t need to undergo the extreme test of velour, of sticking out my leg at a speeding truck, or smashing a mixer-grinder on my tender toe. I am lucky, and I mean it. I have been spared that test. I saw a movie, once, in which a dude was in much the same fix as I am now. The only way he could get away from some disaster, of considerably lesser scale than mine, was to break his foot. He was advised by one nincompoop to drop a typewriter on his foot. I was prevented from seeing the rest of the movie due to a power-cut but, now, my heart went out for him. He was not blessed with the company of my friends, or he would have been wisely counseled. He would need to do, exactly what I was going to, except that I did not yet know, how?

Broken feet, for all their disadvantages – the pain, and that it is most inconvenient to romance a girl – have a distinct advantage. One doesn’t need to find a doctor. I mean, of course, one needs a doctor to repair the damn thing but one doesn’t need to find that doctor. Any doctor will do - anyone who knows his bit about the bones and the marrow. One need not organize a special search for that doctor. He could be any of the friendly neighbourhood faces we see, with a stethoscope hanging down his neck. But the doctor one needs, when one doesn’t have a broken foot, and wants it to be proven broken still, is of a special kind. Our doctor may still be lurking in the neighbourhood but we can’t be so sure as to be able to point to one and say he is our man!

I hope my problem manifests its impressive magnitude before you. And I would be greatly impressed by those, who have, by the skillful use of that brilliant theorem of equivalence, replaced the problem of breaking a foot by the problem of finding a suitable doctor. Keep it up, you all, you need to put in a thought or two about making mathematics your career. The problem that presented itself before me was a monumental one. I had to find a doctor, and of a special kind, who could lay his scruples aside, and plaster an unbroken foot, and produce a brilliant medical certificate that strictly recommended bed rest.

You could, of course, find such doctors; I knew some personally, but the sad thing was that they were all cooped up in this part of the country while I needed someone in that part of the country. I wished I was a mafia don, who had his left and right arms scattered all over the country, and jus a phone call would ensure that the work was done.
What rendered the dilemma even more complicated, was the fact that I had just an evening for myself in Pune. We reached Pune at about five, and I had about four hours, to conjure up a doctor, a medical certificate, and then convince the professor that I was practically out of the tour. It could all go horribly wrong, for it was entirely possible that I may not find an unscrupulous doctor. And the distinct possibility that a doctor could eventually be found, who would melt at my love that a doctor could eventually be found, who would melt at my love story, and help me, was extremely distinct. I might find a doctor, but the professor might not release me, he might want to watch over me caringly for at least a day, as he was a gracious fellow. The problems seemed to be endless and hit me like a hurricane.

But I was not daunted. I had to act and I realized that two things needed to be done quickly. The first I did right away, for I could not afford to lose even a single moment. I took my hands off my head and used judiciously to call my travel agent. I asked him about the availability of tickets on the train from Pune to Chennai, one day later than I had booked. He said there were tickets, and I told him to cancel my parent one and book for the next day. I needed that extra day and badly too. One day less with my darling was better than not staying with her at all.

I got down to the second task in a second. I had to find a doctor in Pune, not when I was in Pune, but now. I had one and a half days now, still it was wise to play safe. It was an infinitely better feeling, I thought, to have a doctor or two tucked in my armpit, than to search like a sniffer dog on the very last day. Hitherto, I had always been a man of the last moment, but now, I had to depart from my habit.

I was not a mafia don but I had my share of contacts. I listed the names of all my near and dear ones, who were even vaguely linked with Pune. The list stopped at five names. I called them one by one, hoping at least one would yield a doctor.

DECEMBER, THIS YEAR

The list was not a bad one and I had hopes of drawing, not one, but two-three medicos. But there I was, bankrupt when it came to doctors. The first four in the list, if I may divulge them, in priority order, were:

1. A very close friend, whom I refrain from naming, whose brother himself was a doctor in Pune.
2. Ria didi, who had studied engineering in Pune and had friends there.
3. My brother Vineet, whose best friend had studied engineering in Pune and had friends there.
4. Rishabh, who had a friend there.

As I started at the list, a fruitless enterprise, I saw the designs of Mr. Fate again. I was plunged into the deepest of despairs. After two days of contacting the listed people, I had drawn a blank. I must say, though that the last three tried earnestly but were unfortunate. My friend’s brother, however, let me down.

Anyhow, these ups and downs of life were becoming a bit too much for me. Only the last name remained on the list made according to priority. I had not much hope left. The task was destined to go into the final day. But then I remembered that thing about sticking to the guns. Wait, till fate becomes your mate.

I turned to the last name. I prayed that this link, the least powerful though it seemed to me, would be the dark horse. I called her, though I did not want to involve her in all this, as she worried a bit too much. Yet, she was the last hope.

.“Hi!” I said.
“Hi!” she said.
“I want you to call your friend in Pune, and ask her if she knows a doctor!” I said businesslike.
“What?” she asked perplexed.

And I had to tell her everything – the change in the dates, the new plan of finding a doctor, and how she was the last hope. And then I just sat back and listened patiently to Miss Shreya’s Don’t comes’. I assured her all would be safe, a million times, and only then she agreed to call her friend.

“Now explain to her the situation, as I have told you, and tell her I’ll call her in the evening. Okay?” I said.
“Yes, take care.”
“I will, you too.”
“And one thing…”
”Don’t have time, yaar, call her now, and let me know.” “Offo, just a minute.”
“What?”
“I would have kissed you, were you in front of me, now?” “My beautiful luck, or call it the game of fate again; you only feel like kissing me, when I am a million miles away!”
She tut-tutted and said, “My poor baby!” and giggled. “Bye, presently, and save this kiss for future.”
“That, unfortunately, cannot be done; your bad luck that you are never at the right place at the right time!” she said, teasing me. “Wish they had a bank account for kisses, one could deposit them for later use…”
“But there are none! Sad!”
“I know, now call Shraddha and get back to me.”
“Bye, unlucky prince of a lucky princess!”
“Lucky, you are surely, what all I have to do for you! But as I say time and again, anything for you, ma’am!”
“That is how things are with princesses, darling! But don’t worry; you’ll too get lucky soon!”
“How?”
“No how, just bye, time is less, as you said!”
“Will you kiss me?”
“Bye!”
“Will you?”
“Love you, and a final bye!”