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“Your father is an environmentalist and wandering the deserts of Antarctica and you say you are not good at Geography!”

“It’s too much to rote… all the mineral mines and water currents and topography charts.”

“I’ll have to give you special tuitions when I come back.”

“Ava is giving me tuitions… I mean, she helps me if I need it…”

“Ava, is it?” Papa drawled. “Would her full name be Avantika by any chance?”

No point in hiding or lying now. And what would he lie about? Why would he lie about Ava?

“Umm… yes, Papa,” Samarth felt his heart beat faster.

“The cricketer Avantika?” His father pressed.

Samarth rolled his eyes. Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki was the biggest needler out there.

“Yes, Papa.”

“Are you treating her respectfully?”

Samarth sobered. He sat up — “Yes.”

A moment of silence passed, the crackle of static the only sound between them.

“Good.,” Papa’s authoritative tone echoed. “Now, I will be back on 7th January. How long are your vacations?”

“My vacations are all through January till February-end this time. They are renovating the west wing and the other wings are needed for 12th board exams.”

“What about polo?”

“The club has two tournaments before March but the final schedule is not out. And Coach says he will release the list only once he knows the venue and the dates.”

“Great, so you’ll be home.”

“Yes.”

“Alright. By the way, I’ve bought you the best gift from here.”

The needler. Right there.

“Is it another ‘Bad Boy’ mug?” Samarth grumbled. His father had gotten him a black bad-boy-mug from America with some gothic scary-looking man on it.

“No!” Papa protested. “That joke is stale.”

“Wait till I start getting you old man souvenirs, Papa.”

“I am 37 and not old at all.”

“Only when you don’t keep a beard.”

He laughed — “You tell me to keep it.”

“That’s because otherwise you don’t look authoritative enough.”

That was true. His father was 37 and when Samarth compared him to other fathers in his school — on a day his father came clean-shaven, he would pass for a 27-year-old. And when he made those teasing, cheeky jokes… maybe younger. Samarth wanted to cringe and hide somewhere.

“Alright, I am running half your inheritance on this call. We can discuss the merits and demerits of my beard later. I am going to go now, mostly I will be out of coverage for the next 10 days. If there’s an emergency, contact the McMurdo Research Station and they will track me down. Ok?”

Samarth already knew that, had the numbers copied in three different places.

“Ok, Papa.”

“Ok, then…”

His father’s voice began to go faint and he panicked.

“Papa?” He blurted.

“Yes, beta?”

That ‘beta.’ Samarth’s mouth dried. The words he had begun to push out, the question he was about to ask, swallowed back in.

“No, forget it. Bye…”

“ Samarth ?”

That was not the voice of a non-authoritative man. For all his heckling and needling and teasing, Samarth knew when his father meant business.

“Tell me.”

That. That was him meaning business.

“Nothing,” he tried to still get out of it.

“I am starting to worry. You better tell me.”

Samarth still debated. After he blurted this out, if his father got angry…

? He never got angry that way. He had never gotten angry at him.

But… or what if he became sad, realising what he was missing?

That could happen too. When Samarth did not know Ava and he could have this, he was living a blissfully ignorant life.

Now that he knew it, there was no other way to go.

“Samarth.”

“No, I was just talking to Ava about things…” he trailed.

“And?”

“And I realised that I can talk to her about anything.”

“That’s good.”

He could hear the smile in that voice. That gave him the courage to continue.

“Yes… but then I was thinking that… who do you talk to?”

“To you.”

“You tell me everything?”

His father paused. Samarth had run his mouth too far to stop now so he said Jai Dwarkadhish and went on — “All these years, after Mummy had left, did you have somebody to talk to?”

“Your Dada Sarkar,” Papa was quick in relaying.

“You told him everything?”

Silence.

“Papa?”

“Yes?”

Samarth swallowed. “I wish you had somebody to talk to too.”

His father said nothing then. Samarth wondered if he had offended him.

If he had gone out of line. After all, he was his son, his prince and his subject.

True, they talked about everything and Papa had always encouraged him to say anything he wanted to, without fear or protocol, at least in the confines of their chambers. But this…

“I did not want to make this weird, Papa…” Samarth grated, tears coming up his throat. His father was too far away for him to go and sort this out face-to-face, apologise…

“No, nothing weird about it,” Papa’s sturdy voice came. “I am glad you have a friend you can share everything with.”

Samarth took a relieved breath. Alright, Papa was not offended. He did not sound it, at least.

“Yes,” he smiled, huffing out a breath. “I hope you have one too.”

“Come on now, tell me good bye, I love you and I miss you so that I can go,” Papa joked again. He was back. Samarth rolled his eyes — “Bye, Papa. I’ll see you back at home.”

“7th.”

“7th.”

A click, and the crackling call disconnected.

Samarth kept lying there on his single bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Two thoughts ran parallel in his mind — 1.

Maybe his Papa would think about himself now, and 2.

Ava would be so proud of him for doing this.

He couldn’t wait to tell her all about it!