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About Notion Press

Notion Press is a Self-Publishing platform to write,

publish & sell Print books and eBooks around the

world. To learn more, visit www.notionpress.com

May 28 is a product of the Notion Press Author

Incubation Program.

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May 28

Sharon Puthur

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NotionPress

5 Muthu Kalathy Street, Triplicane, Chennai - 600005

First Published by NotionPress

Copyright © Sharon Puthur 2013

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN: 978-93-82447-34-4

This book is sold subject to condition that it shall not by

way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold or hired out,

circulated and no reproduction in any form, in whole or

in part (except for brief quotations in critical articles or

reviews) may be made without written permission of the

publishers.

This book has been published in good faith that the work of the author is original. All efforts have been taken to

make the material error-free. However, the author and the

publisher disclaim the responsibility for any inadvertent

errors.

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This book is for:

Shereen and Veena, my two partners

in crime. The bad influences in my life.But without whom my life would’ve

been unimaginably dull. I am so glad

to have known them.

And, Sanju.

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Acknowledgements

My thanks to:

My parents, for their support in my journey as a

writer. It has been tough.

My sister, who gave me insights and ideas on the

characters that I never realised. It comes with being

a Literature student. A special mention here for

the Mount Carmel College drama team “Gallata”

whose name I borrowed.

My friends and relatives, whose praises and

criticisms helped keep me in check all the time.

Arvind Kamath, the first one to hear about Rohit

Arora and in many ways an inspiration.

And finally to my best friend. A Jewish carpenter,

a Man, a God, but most importantly a story teller.

Thank you for putting stories in me. Without you

this book would’ve never happened.

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Trust in the LORD with all your heart;

Do not rely on your own insight.

Let his presence pervade all your ways,

And he will make your paths smooth.

Prov 3: 5-6

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Prologue

‘Naina get ready soon; the boy’s family will be here

in half an hour.’

My mother bustled about in the room, fussing

with my clothes and jewellery.I acknowledged her with a nod and a smile and

then turned back to the mirror. I saw a calm girl

of twenty-five staring back. She looked calm in

the reflection, maybe a little resigned, but calm for

sure.

Looks can really be so deceptive. Today is going to be a day different from the

others. My instincts tell me that. The air is thick

with anticipation.

But I am scared. Terribly scared.

Today might be the day when I’ll have to let go

of all that I hoped for, all that I longed for. I’ll haveto accept the change sooner or later. The change

might even make me the happiest person on earth.

But I am scared. I am scared to change. Maybe

because I didn’t want to let go...

The mark of a fine actress was in maintaining a

desired expression for the required time and that was what we had been trained to do. The slightest

alteration in the expression could change the entire

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situation. I am a fine actress I thought with a faint

smile.‘I’ll be so happy once you’re settled down.’ My

mother was saying. ‘We’ll be one big happy family

with my grand children around me and you will be

happy just like your sister is happy.’

My face tensed. My smile was fast disappearing

and getting replaced by the least appropriateemotion. I clutched my throat as I felt a lump form

and I got up from the chair. I muttered something,

which sounded like stomachache and ran to the

bathroom.

The tears started even before I bolted the door.

From the room I could hear Amma laughing andsaying that such things were common before a big

event like this. And she went on to recount with

gaiety the similar experience she had before she

met Appa.

I held on to the door handle unable to stop

crying. Come on Naina this is not expected of

you. Pull yourself together. I turned and rested

my hands on the washbasin trying hard to control

myself.

I lifted my head and looked a second time in the

mirror. I looked hideous. My eyes and nose were

red and the tears showed no signs of stopping. I

quickly opened the tap and splashed water on my

face. I didn’t want to surprise anyone by crying

and if they see me like this I will have a lot of

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explanation to do. I splashed water more

vigorously and tried my old trick of breathing deeply and smiling widely while at the same time

trying to think of a happy thought.

That’s when an image flitted across my mind.

An image of wisdom and of strength. I was

surprised. He was telling a story. The story of the

farmer and his horse.

He spoke:

Once upon a time there was a farmer. This

farmer had only one horse, a beautiful mare that

was praised far and wide. One day this horse ranaway. The neighbours came to condole over his

terrible loss.

The farmer said, “What makes you think this is

so terrible?”

A month later, the horse came home, this time

bringing with her two beautiful wild horses. The

neighbours became excited at the farmer’s good

fortune. Such lovely horses!


good fortune?”

Some time later, the farmer’s only son, while

riding one of the wild horses, fell off and broke his

leg. All the neighbours were very distressed. Such

bad luck!

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bad?”Soon thereafter a war broke out and every able-

bodied man was conscripted and sent into battle.

Only the farmer’s son, because he had a broken

leg, remained. The neighbours congratulated the

farmer.

The farmer said, “What makes you think this isgood?”

I wanted the story to go on but he stopped.

‘What do you think the story is trying to tell?’

I didn’t have to think before answering.‘That everything happens for the good all the

time.’

‘What is good and what is bad?’ He mused.

This time I thought before answering.

‘Does it mean that we should not judge anything

that happens in our life?’

He smiled.

‘That is what it is. All situations in life are a

part of a huge jigsaw puzzle that is still incomplete.

You’ll come to know things by and by. Why judge

one puzzle piece? But there is something deeper

that I want to convey to you with this story.’

He paused as he considered me.

‘Only when you trust in Providence can you

refrain from judgement. With that trust you can

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accept anything that happens in your life. But that

kind of trust only begins with a hope. You mustnot give up hope. No matter how a situation seems

to you don’t lose hope. Always keep hope alive in

your heart.

‘What is the date today?’

‘Twenty eight May.’

‘May twenty eight. Remember this day. Let itremind you never to lose hope ever. Remember

May twenty eight.’

I never forgot.

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PART I

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1

THE GOOD, THE

BAD, THE UGLY ‘Okay Naina… calm down… relax… things will be

fine… there’s absolutely nothing to worry about.’

Neha said in a voice that was both authoritative

and consoling.

It was the last day of our 12th board exams and

Neha and I were cooped up in my bathroom. I was

biting the insides of my lips in nervousness.

‘Let’s go over the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

again. First the Good, ’ Neha pointed her thumb at

me.‘You are seventeen years old and you are going

for your first ever date with a really hot guy!’ She

gripped my shoulders as if trying to transfer the

realisation purely by means of kinaesthetic

pressure.

‘He’s stinking rich. His parents own a bungalow in one of the poshest localities in Mumbai. He is an

Engineering student and Electronics Engineering

at that and in one of the best colleges here. I think

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that’s too good. And to top that he has his own

bike and his own mobile phone!’I still looked like I was in pain. ‘The Bad is that

he brags a lot and he’s clingy.’

‘So? What’s wrong with that? People brag when

they have done things worth bragging about. He

has and he wants to share it with you. That’s all. If

he is clingy it just means that he loves you and he’spossessive. There’s nothing wrong with that. Many

girls love it.’

‘In relationships you have to give each other

space.’ I frowned.

‘I agree. But are you going to reject him just

because of that? Maybe when he is sure of you he wont be that clingy.’

I tried a different tack. ‘What if he tries to take

advantage of me?’

Neha sighed. ‘Firstly, he’s going to take you to

a restaurant which you know of and which will be

crowded so he can’t do anything to you.’

‘What about in the theatre?’

‘Will you get tickets today?’

‘He said he would go early to book it. I hope he

gets it.’ I said crossing my fingers. ‘I badly want to

watch it. It’s a Salman Khan movie!’

‘Don’t worry. Even if it’s sold out he’ll buy you

one in black. He’ll do anything for you. That is how

crazy he is about you.’

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‘Okay. What if he tries to do something in the

theatre?’She wet her lips in exasperation. ‘You do have

your pen knife don’t you?’

‘Yeah I do, ’ I said with a wink.

‘Don’t hesitate to use it on him if the need

arises. But you know it will not happen. He’s a nice

guy.’‘Hmm, ’ I said. ‘What about the lies I’ll have to

say to my parents just to go on this date?’

‘I was coming to that, ’ she said. ‘That’s the

Bad. You’ll have to do it if you need to go on

the date because you know parents, they’ll never

understand things like dates. You’ll unnecessarily put them in panic if you tell them the truth and

it will have other horrible repercussions

like…like…they won’t trust you anymore…I

won’t be allowed into your house again and your

every move will be watched. Do you need to go

through all that?’

I shook my head violently.

‘Then why bother?’ Neha said looking relieved.

‘Elders are there in our life to make sure that our

lives go smooth and safe without any hiccups, but

once in while isn’t it nice to experience a hiccup

too? The only thing you need to be careful about

is that nobody, I repeat, nobody who is capable of

recognising you should see you. That is the Ugly.’

I took a deep breath and nodded my head.


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‘Whatever be the case, don’t get caught. Cover

your face with a dupatta if need be or wear ahelmet while on the bike –anything –but be safe.’

She sighed and lowered her hands after its

excessive use to convince me.

‘I think you should go. It is an experience of a

lifetime and you’ll have to do it sometime so why

not now?’I stared at a lone spider trudging along the

length of the bathroom wall.

‘What does your brain tell you?’

‘To abort this plan.’ I said bringing my eyes back

on her.

‘What does your heart tell you?’‘My heart tells me to do something rash and

impulsive.’

‘Then listen to your heart silly!’

‘That’s the problem. We have got into so much

trouble listening to the heart all the time that…for

example that…that Kajal incident.’

‘Kajal! Kajal! Why do you keep bringing that

incident to your mind all the time? It was a one

off and won’t happen again, and you know that

it actually turned out for the good. Look at my

parents now to know how it has been for me.

Don’t let it paralyse you .’

I was silent for a moment and then slowly I

broke into a smile.

‘Yes!’ She grinned. ‘Good girl!’

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She held out her hands. I closed my hands on

hers and we said it together.‘We are the smartest. We are the best. We are

the Notorious N’s!’

Both of us laughed and hugged.

‘Okay get ready now.’ Neha said. ‘Meanwhile I’ll

pack a pair of jeans and a T shirt into your bag.’

She turned to unbolt the bathroom door but Ireached out and held her arm. She looked at me

surprised. ‘What?’

‘Neha am I doing the right thing?’

She looked at me outraged. ‘Naina after all this

talk you come back to this basic question?

‘Just tell me would you do it?’‘I would obviously do it. Don’t tell me we are

having this conversation again.’

I smiled involuntarily. ‘Every mistake begins

with a small step.’

She gave me a don’t-kid-me look. ‘I just know

one thing that if you keep yourself always from

doing something that you want to, you’ll never

have any interesting stories to tell your

grandchildren.’

‘You bad girl!’ I said in mock horror. ‘You

always tempt me and make me do things against

my will.’

‘Tempt you, that I do all right but your will is

still yours. You still have around four and a half

hours to decide whether to go on the date or not


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and if your decision is yes, you can be sure to find

a change of clothes in your bag.’She said that and shut the bathroom door.

I stood alone in my bathroom smiling to myself.

Neha was like that, always been like that since the

day we first met.I met Neha Kashyap for the first time in first

standard and we hit off from the first day itself.

I remembered seeing this dusky, shorthaired girl

sitting all by herself on a seat and watching the

people around her. Anybody would’ve dismissed

her as plain or even felt sorry for her, thinking her to be friendless. Even I would’ve done the

same had I not noticed her mouth. It was the most

captivating feature of her face and undoubtedly

when she spoke the attention automatically went to

her lips. She just sat observing everybody pursing

her mouth as though she knew the thoughts of

each of her classmates, and laughed inwardly at

some private joke about them. For some reason

she reminded me of a naughty pixie and I was

more than curious to know her.

I saw her later convincing a girl to eat mud and

succeeding in her venture. So I decided then and

there that I wanted to be her friend.

I recall years later in the words of Mrs Payal

Arora –our maths teacher and our least favourite

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of all teachers –when she addressed the class just

after punishing us,“The world would’ve been a safer place to live

in had the two of them never met”.

It was a gross exaggeration where the “world”

was concerned, but I had to admit it was otherwise

a true statement.

Neha and I was an explosive pair. Bold was ourmiddle name. Brazen was our second middle name

and Brash was our third. When we were small, our

mischiefs were of a milder degree but the mildness

decreased exponentially as we grew older, till we

were feared all over school for our notoriety. We

were coined “The Notorious N’s”. We wreakedhavoc wherever we went. Every dastardly plan for

a prank I conjured she would make sure that it was

implemented. We were arrogant and believed that

we could do anything and get away with it. And we

did.

At times I felt bad that it was I who instigated

her to carry out the things we starred in but she

always managed to convince me that the instigation

was very well justified. All in all I had to say that

she is a bad influence in my life and I am glad to

have known her.

Apart from our interests in playing pranks we

shared an undying love for Enid Blyton novels. We


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started reading from the age of eight and vowed to

have a life filled with magic, adventure and mystery just like in the novels. We especially loved the

boarding school series of “The Malory Towers”

and “The St Clare’s”. We too wanted to experience

the thrills of boarding life, but how would it be

possible to explain all this to the parents of ten year

olds?

Then when we were in the 5th standard in our

boring school in the neighbourhood something

happened that would change our lives forever…

I would never be able to forget that day; it was a

Friday, the 13th of August. It was the first hour and

it was maths, and as usual both of us sat in the last

seat behind two hefty girls who acted as our humanshields to protect us from the dangerous woman

who stood near the blackboard.

As usual Mrs Arora walked in to the class five

minutes before the bell and everybody acting like

perfect robots, got up, wished her a singsong

“Good Morning” and sat down in perfect unison.She glanced at everyone through unsmiling eyes,

lingering on us a little more than necessary and

replied a curt good morning. She always reminded

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me of a hawk who counted her prey before

pouncing on them alive.She kept her books on the table and while still

looking at us, opened the drawer to remove three

chalks –that was how many she took during one

class.

If it was a normal day she would’ve removed the

chalks, closed the drawer and started to teach; butthat day was not normal.

The moment she put her hand in the drawer she

pulled back as though burned. She looked into the

drawer, perturbed. Immediately her hand flew to

her mouth and she screamed like a Rakshasi! Any

weak heart would’ve permanently stopped thatinstant, but the students in our class were

reasonably strong and apart from the natural

involuntary reactions and jerks nobody looked too

disturbed. Some first bencher girls ran to support

Ma’am who looked faint and some brave people

including the two of us decided to inspect the

drawer. We took a glance and immediately stepped

back in horror.

In it was a thick, black, coiled snake!

‘It is them! I am sure they did it!’ Mrs Arora said

dramatically, pointing her finger. Slowly everyone

turned to look in the direction of the finger and

before we could scream, “boo”; thirty-one pairs of

eyes were looking at us.


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Unknown to us, in another section of the

school, in the biology lab a commotion was taking

place. The attendant of the lab had apparently

noticed that one of the formaldehyde jars, which

housed a black viper, was empty.

It didn’t take long to piece the stories togetherand soon we were branded as the culprits and our

parents were called to school.

We pleaded “Not Guilty” but nobody believed

us. Obviously.

Many gave their theories. Some said that we

were being unfairly singled out because we werethe usual pranksters. Some others felt that there

was a huge conspiracy involving the rival school,

but the rest, which was the majority, felt that we

were deserving and that our pranks had gone way

too far this time. I remembered the story of the

boy who cried wolf and felt sorry for him. We were

both scared and I felt like crying but somehow held

back the tears.

Our timid principal was at his wits end. He was

nearing his retirement age and excitement of this

degree was not what he had bargained for in the

last few months of his working life. Nobody could

prove the charges at us but everybody, including

our principal, wanted us out.

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‘I do know for sure, Mr Rai and Mr Kashyap,

that your daughters are not in any way connected with this incident. It is impossible for girls this

small to be involved in something as despicable

as this. I am sure it is the work of the senior

boys and we will do our very best to get to the

bottom of this and bring the person or persons to

task.’ He paused nervously. ‘But now the tensionin school is so great. I have received quite a few

complaints about your daughters, though they are

not in anyway as bad as this, I insist that for the

good of this institution you’ll have to transfer your

wards to some other school. But don’t worry, ’ he

added hastily when he saw our parents open theirmouths in protest, ‘nothing of this incident will

be mentioned and I’ll give a good report. That’s a

promise.’

The arguments went on for a long time but in

the end the gods were favouring our school head.

Our mothers hugged and consoled each other

while our fathers stoically collected the necessary

documents from a relieved but perspiring

principal. And we left the school on that day for

good.

That day both families were gathered together in

my house and the talks went on till night. Nobody

could come to any useful conclusion and instead


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abused and accused the school for bringing

dishonour upon us.In the midst of this turmoil, Neha and I were

locked in my bathroom.

‘Well Naina our plan was a success.’ Neha said

with appropriate seriousness.

I nodded, my eyes glittering maliciously. I was

surprised at how easily things had worked. It was –as usual –my idea, which Neha executed to

perfection. I still wonder though how she managed

to pick up the dead snake in her hand. We thought

we would be shown no mercy and that we would

be expelled with a bad report. But luckily for us it

did not happen that way. Now we knew that ourpath towards joining boarding school was more or

less obstacle free.

We held hands and recited:

‘We are the smartest. We are the best. We are

the Notorious N’s!’

Now for the next and most important step. We

braced ourselves and walked slowly towards the

hall where everybody was gathered. This was the

moment to tell them of our heart’s desire.

‘We want to join boarding school.’ We

announced.

There was a stunned silence and then the

protests started. My mother and my uncle were

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dead against it. Neha’s parents thought it was a

novel idea. I had an inkling that my uncle guessedsomething was fishy with the whole situation.

The discussions didn’t end that day; instead it

spilled over the next two weeks before they finally

gave in to us. My parents were heart broken but we

were thrilled.

It wasn’t long before the arrangements were

made and soon the day arrived when we had to

leave to Dehradun to our all girls’ boarding school.

Neha’s father knew a close family friend in

Dehradun who would be our local guardian there. We stood in the train waving to our family

feeling a strange sense of liberation.

‘I’ll miss my family.’ I said.

‘Hmm.’

‘But we’ll have a lot of fun.’

‘Without a doubt.’ She said with a crooked

smile.

I smiled as I thought of our boarding school

days.

We lived up to our name. We were feared. We

were hated. And we were adulated. Everybody

knew that we could do things that others could

only fantasise about. We were the girls with the


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solutions to everybody’s problems. But solving

problems was not an easy job. And that’s why we were caned, made to kneel down almost every

class, humiliated in front of the school, made to

run numerous times around the grounds and even

taken to the Principal’s room by the ears among

other punishments. But we still managed to

unscrew the seat of our teacher’s chair, disruptclasses by letting frogs loose, steal question papers,

beat up other school boys and have our share of

midnight capers to say the least.

It was a lot of fun. Just like we had imagined it

to be.

Life is great now too, to miss those days toomuch. I always find it odd when people say that

they want to go back into their past and relive their

school days. When there is only one life to live I

wonder why they want to waste it by going back

and forth and changing decisions or reliving the

good times. You are what you are now because of

your past so why not keep that just as a memory

and go ahead and make new memories?

I picked up my comb and began to work on my

hair. I had thick wavy hair that reached just above

my hips and combing them would take me a good

quarter of an hour. I envied Neha’s hair, which was

straight and barely reached her shoulders, because

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it wouldn’t look any different even if she forgot to

comb them –which she usually did.I looked at myself closely in the mirror. I was

reasonably fair with mostly rounded features. I had

an oval face and big eyes. Many people said that

my eyes looked intelligent –even if I felt like an

idiot most of the time –and that was what made me

charming. But what I thanked God all the time wasfor my clear blemish free skin. Everyday before

going out my mother would put a black spot

behind my ear to shoo away the evil eye so that my

skin remains the way it is.

I picked up my bag in which Neha had put in a

pair of jeans and a T shirt and I put in my comband a lip balm and my psychology book as an after

thought. I put on my socks and shoes, checked

for creases on my uniform and then turned to my

table where I keep a statue of God. I said a silent

prayer asking for blessings and strength for the day.

I glanced at the family photo kept next to the idol.

It was taken sometime last year during my 11th

standard.

After 10th Neha and I were disallowed to

continue in boarding and so we joined 11th and

12th in a co-ed school in Bangalore. Our parents

were relieved to have us back again. I could see

the smiling faces in the photo to be convinced of

that. My father, mother and uncle were hugging


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