Chapter 6 - In a land far, far away...

Firdaus became a regular visitor to our college, and often joined Nirvesh and I on our artistic expeditions – when he was in town, that is. But even with his frequent, and often punishing travel schedule, I ended up seeing him at least once a week.

I looked forward to his visits with a seriously unhealthy amount of anticipation.

Even the oblivious Nirvesh picked up on it. He even teased me about it. And while I denied it publicly, I knew, in my heart of hearts, that I had fallen off the deep end for Firdaus Rana Mehta.

And then tragedy struck towards the end of our second year.

"It isn't like him to be late," I told Nirvesh. We were at a small cafe in Colaba, waiting for Firdaus, who had promised to meet us here the previous day.

"He called yesterday, didn't he?" Nirvesh asked. "Where was he?"

"London."

"Ah, must have been delayed because of the crash," my friend said sagely. "One flight crashes and all others get delayed."

"What crash?" I asked. I had not had the time to look at the newspaper in the morning; I had overslept and barely made it to class on time.

"Some aircraft crashed in London," Nirvesh said, digging around in his backpack.

My heart sank. "He texted me when he boarded the aircraft like he always does..." I whispered, hoping my worst fears were imaginary.

Nirvesh pulled out a newspaper from his bag and handed it to me. "There. Don't worry; he'll be fine once the flights are sorted out."

I opened the newspaper with shaking hands. One look at the flight number and my vision blurred and thunder rolled in my ears.

"Jags? Jags!" I could hear a distant voice calling me, but I could not reply.

Someone caught my shoulders and shook me roughly. "Look at me!" A sharp command was issued.

Slowly, my sight focused and the frantic face of Nirvesh appeared in my line of vision. "Take a deep breath," he ordered.

It was probably the shock of my mild-mannered and soft-spoken friend issuing military commands that pulled me out of my cathartic state.

"It is his flight," I whispered stupidly, as if my reaction would not have alerted him. Statistically, plane crashes have a negligible number of survivors, and commercial flights usually have a hundred percent casualty rate, a mechanical voice spoke in my head.

Before I could start hyperventilating, however, Nirvesh, who still had an iron grip on my shoulder, shook me again. As if he could read my mind, he said firmly, "There are survivors. The crash was at Heathrow itself, so they have survivors. Read it."

He thrust the newspaper in my trembling hands. My vision steadied, hope bursting through. I skimmed through the article quickly. More than half the passengers had survived, thanks to the quick-thinking on the part of the airlines staff. There was a helpline number provided at the bottom of the article.

We called them up. Well, Nirvesh called them up; I wasn't sure if I could speak yet.

Firdaus Rana Mehta was alive, for now. He was hospitalised, in critical care, with several other passengers. His parents, however, had already succumbed to their injuries.

Nirvesh and I stared at each other in horror.

"Let's go back to college," he suggested.

I could only nod mutely. There was nothing we could do.

We were met by a hysterical Raina when we entered the gates of our college. "Maasi and Mausaji are gone," she informed us tearfully. "They don't know if Furry bhaiya will make it." She caught my arm. "My parents and I are going to London tomorrow. Come with us." She looked beseechingly at Nirvesh and I. "You two are the best friends he has ever made; it would mean a lot to him not to wake up alone...he has always been so alone and we all worried about him...but he has been so happy in this past year, with you."

"How long does it take to get a visa?" Nirvesh asked.

"Do you have passports?" Raina asked.

Nirvesh and I nodded.

"Give them to me," she said. "I will get Vijay to make the arrangements."

Vijay Chauhan was Firdaus' personal assistant and secretary. He was the very personification of efficiency. I had met him a few times before, and I was quite fond of him – primarily because he was fiercely loyal to Firdaus, and had a rather crazy sense of humour. I had once teased him about his name, and he had promptly replied (with a straight face) that his middle name was "Dinanath" and that his late father had been a school-teacher hailing from Mandwa. I had almost believed him until Firdaus had burst out laughing. Of course, the lanky, bespectacled, imperturbable Vijay was as unlike the cinematic angry young man as you can imagine.

In line with his characteristic efficacy, Vijay was with us an hour later, putting together our documents easily. And even though he was as professional as ever, it was quite evident that he was genuinely worried about his employer. He had been in London with Firdaus, and had taken an earlier flight back to Mumbai. Almost as soon as he had landed in Mumbai that morning, he had heard the news and had been coordinating with the family members as well as the business associates since then.

We felt drained once the passports had been submitted. Raina had left by then, and Vijay, Nirvesh and I were at the college cafeteria.

"I am glad you two are coming along," Vijay said shyly. "I had hoped for it; it would mean a lot to Firdaus. But I wasn't sure if it was in my place to suggest it. I am grateful that Raina got it in her head to do so."

I felt a surge of affection for Raina Malhotra. Airhead she might be, but she certainly cared for her Furry bhaiya.

"Do you think the visas will get done on time?" Nirvesh asked him.

"There should not be any issue. Both of you have US visas already, so we have moved it to fast-track. We will get it by tomorrow," he assured us. "Now we need to book your tickets."

"I will pay for ours," I said immediately.

"No," Nirvesh said. "We will pay for our own."

Vijay shook his head. "Don't bother about that; I'll take care of it."