It was a long table with a laptop, few files, many books and some journals disarranged randomly. Dr Ling was standing near one window that was opened into the sky, talking over phone. They were on the eighty-seventh floor of the building, whose height had taken the breath out of Qadar. On seeing Qadar, he stopped his conversation and went to Qadar spreading his arms, smiling warmly. “Oh Qadar, my friend, how are you?” They shook hands and Ling appraised Qadar, “You look old, Qadar. You need rest and peace. What have you done to yourself?” His concern was genuine and Qadar was moved by his words. In the last many years, he had not felt such concern from others, except the village folk that sat around him on Fridays. “It’s all my fate. I am destined to suffer, perhaps, for my deeds. Nowadays, even gods have less time to settle accounts after death. They are settled while one is living,” he became a bit philosophical.

“Ah! Come on, old buddy. You don’t subscribe to the ancient ideas of India. You are not a Hindu.” Ling guided him to the table and pulled up a chair for his friend to settle down.

Sitting in the chair, Qadar looked ahead into space, beyond the ceiling of the hall. “It is not about Hindu or Muslim or Christian, for that matter. Any religion stipulates the same when it comes to ways of living. People modify doctrines to suit themselves, over time. Nevertheless, I was born in India. One may practise any religion or be an atheist; the philosophy of the land governs all. This is in the psyche and beyond feelings.”

Ling stopped him, “Forget philosophy for a while. Have lunch. You seem famished.”

Qadar smiled. One waiting attendant moved forward and served dishes. The food comprised of one single item, and it was Qadar’s favourite biryani with lots of spices. The aroma immediately tickled inner walls of his tummy and he felt hungry. Silently he ate, enjoying each spoonful of rice laced with meat and spices. It was hot and he had to drink lots of water. He finished eating and looked at Ling, “This is the first meal in many years that satisfied my craving. In fact, my appetite has vanished ever since I was under house arrest. Thank you, Ling. You remembered my favourite food. I can’t recall anyone else, who has shown such compassion in the recent past. Thank you.”

After lunch, they went to Ling’s study, and Qadar pulled out a cigar, to which Ling objected. “Don’t smoke. I don’t want you to play with your health further. You, of all persons I met in my life, were the most disciplined and I tried to model myself on you. Please, try to give it up. At least, don’t smoke when I am around.” Without protest, Qadar put the cigar back in the box and laid back on the cushions.

Allowing Qadar to relax, Ling waited for few minutes. A full stomach and the warmth of the cushions slowly put Qadar to sleep. Ling left his friend alone and walked out of the room.

After about an hour, Qadar woke up. Sensing that he had slept sitting on the sofa, he smiled at himself and got up. He went to the washroom and splashed his face with cold water. He felt fresh and energetic. Searching for Ling, he moved about the house and found Ling talking to someone in his office and entered the room.

On seeing Qadar, Ling dismissed the others, and signalled Qadar to sit down and ordered for coffee. After coffee was served, he enquired, “What brings you to Beijing, my friend?”

Sipping coffee, Qadar explained everything, without hiding anything. He felt, he couldn’t lie to his old friend who had cared for him. Both remained silent and contemplated. “How much of this do you believe?” questioned Ling.

“I think it is nonsense,” Qadar replied promptly.

“So, what do you intend to do?”

“I have a few plans, but not finalised anything yet,” replied Qadar. “I am supposed to make an appointment with you tomorrow. I hope, I’ll decide by that time, what I will need from you.”

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