I stole another glance at my mentor. Nothing was unusual but it was eerily weird to actually see him in a good mood. It was not as if he was a grumpy old man. Mr. Khira was a perfectly decent man with good behavioral traits. He was but outspoken and preferred to keep himself locked up most of the time. In the last three years, I had hardly seen him spending leisure time and now he was just sitting there in his rocker and smoking a cigar!
Three years earlier, I was in terrible need of money. After running away from home, I had hardly anyone to go to. I had to pay for my education, food and residence. Before the start of college, I had started working in an all night fast food store. I went there in the night, compromising my sleep for money but it fell short. Within two months into college, I realized I couldn’t go on with the little money I received there. It was one of my friends who had told me that Mr. Khira needed someone to do his jobs. Mr. Khira was the English faculty at the college and was a well-known author and philosopher. He had never taught us, the first years. To be frank, I had never actually seen him. I had arranged an appointment with his assistant at college and even though many people had advised me against working for him, I have managed three years with him and with great satisfaction too.
I started again with the letters, I was supposed to address. It was a daily routine, soon after college, I would come to his quarters and help him with his daily chores. Answering his mails, collecting the various reviews and critics he got at one place, etc. Sometimes, he taught me his philosophies, sometimes he asked me my views. We got along like a father and son.
He got up from his chair and came to me.
"What is this? Why are you still doing this?" Mr. Khira said in his deep voice.
"You told me to, sir." I replied. I had learnt not being afraid of him. He was unlike anything people expected him to be.
"Leave this Rohan. See the weather. We should go outside. What happened to those vegetable patches?" He said.
"They are doing great." I said.
"This is life, isn’t it? I am glad we planted so many of them. They will grow to become something elegant." He said.
"Definitely sir, it will be a sight."
We moved outside and sat on the wrought-iron chairs.
"I will order something to eat. It is already time for dinner. Is pizza okay for you?" He said.
"Yes sir." I said.
"I will go in and order then." He said and started getting up.
"I will do it sir. You sit here." I said and hurried inside.
When I came back outside, Mr. Khira was standing near the old banyan tree. He usually did this.
"Sir, what do you actually do there. I have seen you standing there for hours at a stretch." I asked.
"I talk to the tree." He replied.
I didn’t say anything.
"Do you want to try?" He smiled at my innocence.
I stepped forward.
"Place your hand near this life. Ask him to shake your hand." He pointed towards a leaf.
I did so. Nothing happened.
"You are not asking him to shake your hand, are you?" He asked.
"There is no wind sir."
"What has wind got to do with this tree shaking your hand. Here I can shake your hand without the wind." He said shaking my hand. "Now, your hand near the leaf. Think of it as a person and tell it you are glad to meet him."
I did as asked, once again. This time the leaf moved and gently brushed my hand. I stepped back intuitively.
"Don’t be afraid." Mr. Khira smiled. "This tree has been here my whole life. I have learned so many things from its various parts. The leaves, for instance, teaches me to be always young and energetic."
The pizza delivery guy arrived and I took the order from him. We sat and ate and talked.
"Do you remember your first time here?" He asked.
"Vividly." I smiled.
When I had first visited his quarters, Mr. Khira was furiously working on his typewriter. "You are late." He had said angrily. I was at loss of understanding for why he had said that. I was ten minutes earlier than the time the assistant had told me.
"Do you know why I said what I said at the time?" He asked.
"No sir."
"Rohan, do you know how many times anything happens?"
"Once, some events twice or even more than that." I said.
"No, everything that happens, happens three times. Once in our subconscious, second time is when our subconscious tells our conscious brain to do it and third when that thing actually happens." He explained. "I had already been with you for years before you came to me."
"I don’t understand." I said.
"I had already accessed my subconscious. I have taught you for more than three years, all inside my brain." He said and like many things he had said, this bounced off my head.
"Rohan, I want you to take care of this tree and everything we have done. Take care of these patches and take care of my typewriter and my papers and everything." He said and while he said this, his eyes were moist.
"Is anything wrong sir?" I asked.
"Nothing is wrong Rohan. Nothing can ever be wrong if you perceive it right." He said.
I cleared the table and went inside to finish the letters. When I came back outside, Mr. Khira was standing near the patch.
"They are indeed beautiful." He said looking at the soil, "not one plant will die."
I stood next to him and tried to see what he was seeing.
"You will not see it now Rohan. One day though, I am sure you will." He said and patted my back. "You should go home. It is late."
I touched his feet, intuitively again.
"May god bless you. I will see you again." He said and started walking back in.
"Till tomorrow then sir." I said and he turned. He didn’t say anything but smiled. He turned again and started walking but before entering the main door, he fell down on the cement porch. I sprinted and reached him in an instant. He was motionless. I checked his pulse, nothing.
I wasted no time in calling for the ambulance. The doctor at the hospital, however, announced him dead. He had died of heart attack. There was nothing to be done. He called me into his chamber.
"Who is he to you?" The doctor asked.
"My mentor. He is a lecturer at the Government College."
"What happened?" The doctor asked.
"We were together when this happened. We had pizza and he told me to go home. He was walking inside when he fell down. I brought him here."
"What took you so long?" The doctor asked.
I was perplexed.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"He has been dead for hours. More than twelve hours if might say. The body has already started showing the signs of decomposing. Can you not smell?" The doctor said.
I didn’t reply. I came back to table where his body was lying.
The professor still had the same serene smile on his face. The smile Rohan had been seeing for years.