If there was anyone the all-loving Jay Shankar loathed, it was the rationalist inside him. He popped up every morning to tell Jay that he couldn’t be in bed forever, and would then run away, never to be seen for the rest of the day.

And he made his daily rounds even on that beautiful Sunday, as Jay’s eyes were forced open to yet another chilly October’s morning. Piranagar, a small but self-sufficient town in Tamil Nadu where Jay lived, was going through an unusually cold month that year.

When Jay’s valiant efforts at kicking away his warm blanket to face the new day finally paid off, his eyes darted towards the calendar on the blue wall. October 18^th, said the calendar. To Jay, it read “Happy 14^th, Jay! You’ve survived your first year as a teenager!” The wall clock, though, read 9:15, and with the hands of the clock pointing towards opposite ends, they appeared to him like his father’s hands outstretched in exasperation, admonishing him for his 11-hour long ‘power nap’. At least, that was what his marathon slumber had started as.

He entered the living room, whose lights were already switched on, where he saw his father Shankar perched on the couch reading a journal on acoustics.

Shankar, seeing Jay, smiled momentarily and arose from the couch. He was 6 feet tall, 4 inches taller than Jay, and about as thin and pale-faced as Jay. His 48-year old scalp bore streaks of grey hair (to go with his otherwise jet black hair), and his probing blue eyes sparkled through his old round-rimmed pair of spectacles.

“Firstly, a very happy birthday, Jay,” said Shankar softly. He gave a slight nod, the only piece of evidence, thought Jay, that there was still life behind that deadpan expression of his.

“Thank you, Sir,” replied Jay, amused at this formal greeting. His father was a senior physics lecturer at the Bahn Science College, Piranagar. Sometimes, the strict communication requirements at Bahn got to Shankar even at home.

Jay’s father pretended not to have heard him, and continued, “I just wanted to tell you, son, that you have been a wonderful child to your parents.”

Parent, thought Jay, a touch bitterly. His mother, Sarala, had passed away soon after his birth, and he had no memories of her. A disease, his father had said vaguely. Once, when Jay, at the age of six, tried pressing him for more details, his father seemed to drown in a puddle of his own tears.

Jay thus learnt a valuable lesson very early in his life – that sometimes, ignorance was indeed bliss. Knowledge wasn’t worth seeing his only parent breaking down in front of him.

Shankar carried on, the energy in his voice now picking up. “You have a beautiful heart and mind, and from what I have observed, you really believe you can make a difference in this world. Am I right, Jay?”

Jay nodded slightly, waiting for the inevitable ‘but’. But you have to work harder? But you have not impressed me enough? But you need to get a beautiful soul as well?

“But,” said his father, who then paused for a moment and said, “You cannot change the world, my boy. I’ve waited for you to become old enough to hear this”. And he stared down into Jay’s eyes unblinkingly, for about ten seconds.

Jay stood motionless, stunned into silence, his wide innocent eyes looking even larger. You cannot change the world. You cannot change the world. You cannot change the world.These words kept repeating themselves in his mind, and each time he heard them, his heart sank even further. Suddenly, the words of his inner rationalist, “You cannot be in bed forever” started to sound like such caring, comforting and nurturing words.

Jay figured that his father wasn’t really questioning his calibre, or his sincerity, or anything which was fixable. The ‘but’ sentence was way worse than what he had feared. His father had made it sound as simple and final as a law in physics –“There exists an upper bound on the difference between the state of the Earth before a person’s birth, and the state of the same Earth after the person’s death. The value of this limit has been found to be zero.”

“Then why do we live?” asked Jay in a hollow voice. This was the most fundamental of the numerous questions that had been bothering him.

Shankar, though, had apparently had enough of serious talk, and for the first time that day, spoke jovially –“To eat cake, of course!” He produced a box of pastry from the refrigerator, and handed Jay a piece while taking one for himself. He finished the piece in one gulp, and licked his fingers till every last crumb of sugar had been transferred into his mouth.

“This box of pastry means the world to me,” said Shankar, helping himself to another piece. “The only catch is – this world can be changed in seconds – from full to empty”.

Jay had to laugh. Even if it meant choking over the pastry. Being a fan of lame jokes, such one-liners just had to pre-empt the philosophical worries that were occupying his mind.

Parthasarathy (Partha) Ramesh hummed merrily as he walked along the streets of Katanagar, the wind ruffling his hair. He hated exertion, but this walk was more of a way to get out of his own head for a while, than a mode of exercise. To him, sitting down and ‘just thinking’ was a dangerous pursuit.

And the walk was working. The roar of the wind, sounds of car horns, and the usual chitter-chatter on that crowded road was enough to distract him every time he was slipping into a pensive mood.

But despite being focussed on his walk, and not on his thoughts, Partha did have trouble dodging passers-by. Being bulky is tough, he realized, after having apologized to three people already for bumping into them.

The fourth person he collided with, though, did not understand the language of apology.

“Watch where you’re going, you rolling boulder!” came a forceful female voice. The tall Partha looked down at the scowling face of the person he had offended, a girl of moderate height, with long, black, and curly hair. Partha took a moment to admire her almond-shaped eyes.

“Radha?” he said, a smile beginning to spread across his face.

“Partha?” replied the girl, still scowling.

“Talk about bumping into people!”

“You’re fatter since I last saw you!” said Radha.

“Well, that was five years ago.”

“Yeah, when you were doing class four for the third time!” she said, and cackled loudly.

“And?” prompted Partha, seemingly unaffected by this tirade of abuse.

Radha thought for a moment, then grimaced, and shaking her head, said, “Well, I guess I’ll have to turn my sickeningly nice mode on, just for a few seconds. Because, you were the boy who punched our teacher five years back when she was unfairly ill-treating me.”

“And, got expelled while you laughed at my plight,” reminded Partha calmly.

“I’m mean. Get used to it!”

Partha laughed good-naturedly. “I still dream of that laughing face at times. No, it’s a nightmare, actually. Didn’t know the verb for nightmare!”

“Good job, Shakespeare! So, what do you want of me?”

“Huh?”

“When someone remains nice to me for more than fifteen seconds, something’s not right.”

Partha had no idea what Radha meant, but seized the opportunity and said, “Yeah. Let’s have coffee?” pointing at a building named ‘XAB Coffee Shop’.

“Wait, are you asking me out?”

“No!” said Partha, with a comic gasp. “You’re paying for your own coffee!”

“Well, I guess that’s okay then,” said a puzzled Radha.

*****

“So,” said Radha, over her cappuccino, “Any friends at Piranagar Public School?”

“Yeah,” said Partha. “A guy called Jay. Really good thinker. I’m always amazed at the way he can just soak himself in his thoughts without wanting to kill himself. Perhaps his heart is as pure as it looks.”

“Kill himself? Why?”

“Well, aren’t all human thoughts selfish, depressing, and… I don’t know… a devil’s workshop, maybe?”

“Yeah. But we get used to it. Who else?” asked Radha.

“What?”

“Who are your other friends?”

“Um… I think I’m done with my list. There is no practical use in making friends with other people.”

“You’ve changed a lot,” said Radha, softly. “Didn’t you always want friends at your old school?”

“Yeah, I’ve changed, or at least, I’ve suppressed my old self. I’ve become even more of a knucklehead than I was. I’ve even stopped trying to think.”

He paused for a moment to reflect on what he had just said. “Ever since I got expelled for going out of my way to help you, and got routed by my family, I decided not to venture into anything unless it directly benefits me. Even if that thing is friendship.”

“Hmm… Interesting,” said Radha, nodding. “So is Jay of some major use to you?”

Partha thought for a moment, and shook his head slowly.

“No,” he said. “Don’t really think so.”

“So answer my next question.”

“I don’t know. I guess it was just fate which brought us close to each other. People do curse fate, but I get the feeling that two people thrust together by pure fate may go on to develop a special, if not always rosy, relationship. And maybe, that’s still keeping him in my circles. Dangerous I know, but what can I do?”

“Okay, sage,” said Radha, rising. “Let’s pay the bill before they charge us extra for drinking up this place’s air!”

Partha walked up to the billing counter and offering two ten rupee notes to the cashier, said, “Two cappuccinos.”

He turned back towards Radha and said, “I lied. I did ask you out.”

“Why would you do that?” asked Radha, flabbergasted. “Isn’t that dangerous in your book?”

“Again, fate has the final say,” replied Partha, in a matter-of-fact manner, as they exited the shop.

Partha elaborated. “You were at the centre-stage of an important event which transformed my outlook on life. And today, I bumped into the same person, just when I so wanted not to think. I generally don’t open up, even with my limited thoughts, but today, I had no choice but to grant you access to my mind. And… I know it sounds flaky, but I think life wants us to be together.”

“You weren’t exactly saving a damsel in distress five years ago. You were just defending a would-be friend.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That you can be an amazing friend, no matter what fate says. But a boyfriend… well, I don’t have enough evidence to accept that.”

“Well, I do happen to be a great kisser. Practised a lot on mannequins when nobody was looking.”

“You’re weird.”

“All the more reason to date me,” said Partha, and without hesitation, leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on her lips.

“Give me more,” said Radha, and caught Partha by his shoulders.

Eight minutes of intense smooching later, Radha let go.

“A great friend plus a great kisser does not make a great boyfriend,” said Radha.

Partha looked crestfallen. She’s just used me for her pleasure!

“But,” said Radha, smiling. “I’m willing to make an exception. Take me home, Romeo!”

“So Partha, what do you think?” asked Jay, to his friend at Piranagar Public School the next day.

They were having lunch in the school’s canteen. The canteen was huge, with around twenty five eight-seater tables. Partha and Jay loved the corner table which was farthest from the counter (“Back benchers for life!” they often joked to one another), even if it meant having to walk a long way for getting a second helping of food.

“I think he’s spot on, Jay,” said Partha, while attacking a plate of chicken rice, and admiring the reflection of his dark, pudgy, and freckled face through the part of his plate that wasn’t occupied by food. Partha was the son of a well-to-do government officer, and his mother was a software engineer in a big firm.

Partha was sixteen, two years older than Jay, but in the same class. He had failed class 4 twice, but after that, his father had risen through the government ranks and he hadn’t been failed ever since.

Jay had just narrated the conversation he had had with his father the previous day. Partha was quite used to such narrations from his friend. For a teenager, Jay thought too much.

Partha, on the other hand, only seemed to be interested in the flavour of Jay’s birthday cake.

“You’re just saying that because he tuned me out by eating cake! Just like what you always do!” snapped back Jay.

“And you’re just saying that because you want me to disagree with your dad!” countered Partha.

Jay smiled, even though he didn’t feel like it. He often did that when tension seemed to be rising between the two of them. He believed that a smile was a great calming agent for all parties involved in a dispute. Partha liked this particular facet of Jay’s thinking (though he wasn’t a fan of his thinking altogether!) as he could then focus on more eating and less politics.

“So,” said Jay, in a softer voice. “You really don’t feel we can change the world?”

“I hate to break it to you, Jay, but we’re just minor events in the centuries of human existence. We may live for seventy odd years, which is definitely a lot of time to suffer, but not long enough to make a dent in the world. Just when we think we’re about to really do something, we go POOF,” said Partha, dramatically throwing his hands apart, “and the next gen has to start from scratch.”

“Beautifully put,” said Jay, scratching his chin, as if styling his non-existent beard. “But yeah, heart-breaking.”

“To elaborate,” continued Partha, apparently buoyed with his success at taming Jay’s thoughts, “Think of William Shakespeare’s Seven Ages. Basically, life is a stage and we are actors. From our frame of reference, we’re bigshots trying to change the world, but in reality, we’re just mortal characters playing out a script.”

“YOU READ SHAKESPEARE?” asked Jay, astounded.

“Hey, I just skimmed through some old book. Don’t let this get around, OKAY?”

“Are you in love?” teased Jay.

“Jay, I have told you a million times that I will never date anything unpalatable. And I am not a cannibal.”

Jay still looked skeptical, but he let it go. He finished eating, and waited as Partha took the long walk to get another helping of rice, when he suddenly saw a younger boy three tables away from him eating alone, with tears in his eyes.

There was something about the boy’s countenance that made Jay trace it back to years of bitter experiences. Though Jay didn’t know him, his heart went out to the boy, as it often happened when he saw people in pain. Usually, he felt powerless to help such people, but on that day, he felt some force rise within him.

He rolled his mind a couple of years back, when he was in English class, a class he generally wasn’t too fond of. While he liked reading fiction and writing short essays, he often complained about the lack of quality literature that was being dealt with at school. But then, that fine day, the teacher opened ‘The Bishop’s Candlesticks’ by Norman McKinnel, where a kind bishop changed a convict’s heart through an act of kindness. The convict had stolen the bishop’s silver candlesticks, and was caught by the police, but the bishop drove the police away by convincing them that he had giftedthe convict his candlesticks.

Throughout the story, the bishop was chided by his sister Persome for being too much of a pushover, but in the end, the bishop’s kindness won the argument, reforming the convict and giving him hope that there was life outside the torturous jail. It was after reading this story that Jay started believing that he could indeed change the world.

Inspired by the story, Jay began searching for his own Bishop Moment – that moment where hecould transform souls through mere words and gestures. That moment had eluded Jay for a long time, and Jay felt nowhere close to attaining such a moment. At times, he wondered what he would do once he got to it. Would he jump up and down in joy? Would he write a blog about it? Or, like the bishop in the story, would he retain the same sense of calmness and humility? Jay felt guilty to admit to himself that it would probably not be the third option.

But hey, modern bishops can be a bit different, he reassured himself. He figured that everyone needed a driving force to carry out any activity, good or bad, and if the driving force wasn’t a monetary one, the person was good enough to be a bishop.

Partha returned, and Jay, leaning towards him, whispered –“Hey, I may not change the world, as in, I can’t stop global warming in a day, but can’t I change that boy’s world?” gesturing towards the boy.

“Now you’re just playing with words.”

“I am not!”

“Oh yes you are!”

“Your lack of passion is amazing.”

“Thanks. It’s just that I follow some basic rules. When someone is alone, what is the reason, my friend?”

“Um, maybe a feeling of inferiority. Or insecurity. Or plain introversion.”

“Wrong. It means he isn’t with anybody.”

“That’s the definition of alone, you joker!”

“Right you are. So to put it in another way, it means nobody is with him.”

“Oh wow.”

“You might need to pull out the smile soon, Jay. Nevertheless, getting to the point, when people ostracize a person, they do it for a reason. Ostracism is not a sport. Jay, there is something wrong with the boy. And no offence, but you are no magician. Follow the crowd and stay away from him.”

“I’m not being heartless, Jay,” said Partha hastily before Jay could reply. “But I just can’t see you suffer. Look into my eyes. I do care sometimes, even if it doesn’t always seem like it.”

Jay patted his friend (who seemed to be panting after this mini-outburst) on the back. “I’m not calling you heartless, Partha. I respect others’ views. Even if it doesn’t always seem like it. It’s just that my moral value system has always been my unique selling proposition, and I feel the need to be kind, because, otherwise, I’m not me. And maybe,” said Jay with a bright smile, “I can be the magician. The messiah who puts people’s lives right!”

“Oh, come on, that’s -,” started Partha, but Jay had already risen and was walking over to the boy’s table.

Partha shrugged and devoured his rice before it could become colder.