Read Online Hillstation by Robin Mukherjee - Free Book Online

a crick in his neck from solving mysteries. ‘Observation,’ he had tried to explain, though we both knew I struggled a bit with the more rarified echelons of abstract science, ‘is the you know of the something or other, which is that, the thing, which it is, you see.’
    It struck me that our new discovery might forever be known as ‘Dev Sharma Syndrome’, or even ‘Pushkara Disease’. Doctors would nod sagely at the stiff necks and rigid eyeballs in front of them and say, ‘My good fellow, I fear that what you have got is a bad case of the Pushkaras.’ Although I could see objections to this. While it was established practice to name ailments after the clinicians who discovered them, I wondered sometimes if it didn’t pale after a while to find your name eternally cross-indexed with vomiting. How did the good Doctors Crohn, Elephantitis and Stool feel as yet another hotel receptionist tried not to smirk? Among blessings, scientific renown can be especially mixed.
    It was only when I reached the central vortex around which the epidemic swirled that I too was struck by its contagion, my eyes locked open, my jaw hung slack and my limbs refusing to move.
    She was sitting in the middle of the room, a simple blue dress hanging lightly over her legs. Her shoes were black, flat and rather plain. A delicate chime of silver bangles slid back as she raised a hand to brush the hair from her eyes. Standing next to her was the man in the crumpled suit whose name, I remembered, was Mike.
    â€˜How much longer, do you reckon?’ she said.
    He shrugged.
    â€˜Bloody goldfish bowl,’ she said, after a moment.
    â€˜Where?’ said Mike.
    â€˜Not where. Us.’
    â€˜Oh,’ he said. ‘Yeah.’
    The babble of voices hushed abruptly as I stepped forward. Eyes, in spite of their rigidity, swivelled to watch me. Breaths were held, limbs frozen. Even the flies seemed to hover silently in the sultry air. If it wasn’t for clinical decorum I would have leapt over to her, laughing and crying, for here she was, my destiny, my beloved, the consummation of my heart’s desire, the apogee of all my longings, waiting with a quiet grace and solemn humility I had never seen before in any human being, ever. In this moment hung the fecundity of generations. And I promised never again to doubt the powers of Pol to win celestial favours.
    â€˜What?’ she said, noticing me.
    â€˜Perhaps you would like to come with me,’ I said, indicating my office.
    â€˜Are you the Doctor?’ said Mike.
    â€˜Not at all. I am merely the Clinic Skivvy. My brother, who has been to England, is the Doctor. But I can provide you with a preliminary consultation until he is ready to see you,’ I thought. What I actually said was, ‘Yes of course.’
    â€˜I’ll see you at the hotel,’ said the man.
    â€˜You’re not waiting?’ she said.
    He looked around. ‘I dunno, there’s got to be a drink somewhere in this bloody town.’
    â€˜Mountain resort,’ she said dryly.
    â€˜Yeah,’ he said, ‘whatever.’
    I closed the door and gestured to the chair in front of my desk.
    â€˜It is my opinion,’ I said, getting one or two matters out of the way, ‘that we should not have sex before marriage.’
    â€˜Word gets around then,’ she said, sitting down.
    I opened my diagnosis pad and sharpened a pencil.
    â€˜Anyway,’ she said, looking at her hands, ‘it’s not sex, it’s acting.’
    Dev had often told me that in love nothing makes sense, even things so simple, ordinarily, that they don’t have to. Love, he had said, is a distress you never want to end. And though I had found that slightly paradoxical at the time, I was beginning to understand what he meant.
    â€˜Anyway,’ she added, looking up, ‘you’ve got your opinions and I’ve got mine. Right now I just need something for the