Non-erotic The Scarface I Hated by Trambak

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The evening passed in general chit chat though we skirted contentious issues. Kiana appeared mesmerised by the food laid. That was something she had been missing for long. After inspecting it for some time she whispered, "The boys there have never seen so much food."

Understandably, the rest of the dinner was completed in dead silence.

Soon it was time for bed. Kiana was tired and happy to sleep. Imran escorted her to Sumitra's room where the bed was large enough for two. Kiana looked at me and said, "Good night."

We moved back to our bedroom. Imran closed the door and held me in a bearlike embrace. It took me some effort to come out of that. Before he could say something, I asked, "Did you go through the papers in my box. Did you find something?"

"Plenty." He volunteered, staring somewhere unthinkable.

"What?" I demanded.

"First thing first, not now!" He said hoarsely, picked me up and kissed me. Rest was history.

"Thanks," Imran said at the end.

"What for?" I questioned him.

"For everything." He mumbled, looking at me with lustful eyes.

"Nonsense." I pushed him back and added, "What's that 'plenty' thing?"

Imran sat up and there was a sparkle in his eyes, he said, "Look Meher, there are a lot of papers in there. Some are disjointed. But there are two that looks important."

His enthusiasm was infectious. I too was intrigued. At the middle of the night, the box was opened and the contents were taken out. Few of them I had already examined earlier. I was interested in the 'two documents' that Imran mentioned but he was unwilling to start from the middle. He meticulously laid out all the books and documents one by one in some chronology that only he understood. It looked like his workshop where he had a special arranged for his equipment.

Like a true researcher, he started his explanations with the books, "Meher, these are not usual books that people read. These definitely shows leftist leanings of those who had been reading these or maybe trying to influence similar ideology. One book about Paul Robeson is a present to Amaya from Ardeshir."

"Any idea who these two could be?" Imran speculated with interest.

"My parents, most likely." My reply was short and dry.

"Oh!" He was apparently caught off guard.

"Have you read them?" I prodded.

"I have read most of them, earlier." He answered in a dismissive note.

"So, you know everything about Lenin's wife." I teased.

We both were quiet. He said softly, "Considering the age of these books, it was not unusual for persons of that era to seriously follow the Russian revolution or Marxism."

I agreed. Apparently, he knew more about such things.

Then he went on to the newspaper cuttings. He took up the first one that had a scribble 'Chasnala-372'. Imran patiently explained, "On 27thDecember 1975, there was an explosion in the Chasnala coal mine near Dhanbad. The roof collapsed and a huge amount of water gushed in burying alive every miner working underneath. 372 miners were declared dead by the government although it was suspected that about 700 people were killed. The matter was hushed up. Later, a cinema called 'Kala Patthar' was made depicting the tragedy. Nothing happened to the owners of the mine. The families of the victims were given a pittance as compensation."