CHAPTER
1
My name is Lunette Shakhri. And I
believe that there are four types of morning risers: early risers, late risers, lazy
risers and then there’s me. I still don’t know why my lifestyle was so weird. Mom
and dad, my friends, my cousins, everyone was like the others. They felt tired
as the day drowned, and slept at night. But I was different. I felt more and
more energetic as the night came nearer. I’d rarely slept at night. I didn’t
like or feel the necessity to sleep. The night was so beautiful. When I was a
child, mom and dad forced me to sleep, and I’d act very well. But now that I’m
nineteen, well nothing’s changed, I still do the same. Act to sleep. I think I
was named just right. ‘Lunette’ in French means ‘little moon’.
“Lune, come down, breakfast is
ready!” mom called. My stomach growled. I’d been so engrossed in my project;
I’d forgotten to eat the whole night. So I closed my project and ran
downstairs. “Eww!” I exclaimed, “not the veggies again”. Dad had suddenly
decided to go vegetarian, but we had no idea why he forced us to do the same. I
hated vegetarian food. It never really satisfied me. To top it off, dad held
the ‘go green’ board high. If he really wanted to go green, I don’t really know
why he was a vegetarian… “Aren’t the two things contradictory??” I always asked
him; as usual he just changed the topic.
“Mom, I’ll be going out for some
research work this Saturday. I’ll be out the whole day” I informed her. On
seeing the concern on her face, I immediately added, “I won’t be going alone,
chill. My project members, all three of them are with me.” She still wore the
over-concerned look on her face. The last week, I had gone out of town, I’d come
home covered in blood. I’d tried to tell everyone the truth, but Marsella
covered it all up with “it was just a car accident. She hit her head hard, and
now she is imagining things” line which everyone seemed to believe. She was the
one who saved me, and then she was the one who lied. Since that very day, I’ve
hated her. Why had I been so unfortunate? Why did she have to be in my project
group? No matter what I said or did to her, she always hovered. She always
pretends to take care of me, to be on my side, to assure me, to trust me. But I
know this is all a lie, otherwise why would she cover up such a deadly
incident. She didn’t even let my parents believe me. I was gonna think of
something to get rid of her soon. I could hardly believe she was my best buddy
before last week.
I was getting late.
Abhimanyu picked me up as usual, and we drove to college. “How’s the project at
your part going?” he asked me, “did the night help you?” Abhi was the only
person apart from Marsella who knew my little ‘night’ secret. He was the only
person who trusted me when I told him about how the night always gave me
answers to the questions I’ve always wanted. Neither my parents nor did my
brother believe me, when I told them about it. Abhi and I had been friends
since pre-school. Both our parents had seen our strong friendship and mistaken
it with love. But both of us always laughed at the idea of getting romantically
involved with each other. Both of us had way different sights about what kind
of a person we would fall in love with.
“The project is going good. I
definitely had help, but we need to make the project more interesting. I think
our Saturday trip will be worth it” we both agreed. I had a strong feeling the
trip was going to make a huge difference. Our project was about the outer
universe. We had done a lot of research, made models, visited planet-museums
and taken some interviews. We had named our project ‘multiverse’ and it was
going in full swing. “Hey guys”, Marsella said. She always looked beautiful,
almost as short as me, and Abhi had a huge crush on her. That was the only part
of him I disliked. He could fall for any girl in the universe, but Marsella?
After what she had done to me? That was least expected of him.
“Where is Yen?” I asked Abhi.
Exactly at that moment, ‘boom!’ we heard a blast from the girls dorm. The three
of us looked at each other and sighed, ‘Yen’. This had to be Yen. He was the
biggest prankster in college. He flirted with every possible girl, but he was
good at heart, and was of great help in our project. His dad’s contacts and money
made it easier for us to fund our project and get permissions for interviews.
That is the only reason he was in our project group. “Greetings angel!”, Yen
called from behind. “For the hundredth time Yen, I am not your angel. Call me
that one more time and I’ll break your teeth.” I threatened and left. “You’re
kick-ass, and I love that about you”, I heard him scream. He always smiled his
cocky smile, and all the girls fell for him. But everyone knew what a playboy
he was.
We all went to our class and after
an hour long of torture in History, we met for Lunch. That’s when Abhi asked Yen,
“Did your dad get us permission to go meet Mr. Fiddlesworth on Saturday?”
Meeting him was the main point of our trip. Mr. Fiddlesworth was a foreign
astronaut and a geologist. He had recently shifted to live in the town. He
never gave appointments to anybody, but he was a man of honour. He could give
us all the information we ever needed. We all thought it was almost impossible
to meet him, but we had hope. Yen’s father had promised us help. Yen slowed his
eating, which was unusual and this fastened our heartbeats. He spoke in his
rare soft voice. No one outside our table could hear him. He said “Dad pulled
some strings, and Mr. Fiddle whatever has decided to meet us. But this remains
a secret.”
Yen pulled out a chit from his
pocket. “Is that his number?” I asked him. He nodded. A phone conversation is
not what we expected. Yen added, “Lune, do you know this man?” I had no idea
what this sick-head was talking about. “I think this Fiddle person likes you”
he added with a grin. I almost spat the water in my mouth on his face. Was he
actually telling me that this 76-year old man liked me? For real? I was about
to snap at him when he added, “He insisted that he will only be seeing us if
you will be surely going”.
What the heck was going on? How did
renowned Mr. Fiddlesworth know me? I was sure he was mistaking me for someone
else. We all decided to call Mr. Fiddlesworth. My mind was spinning. The phone
rang, and our hearts raced. The phone kept ringing but nobody picked. We tried
it thrice, but there was no answer, we gave up and continued our lunch. That
day I could not concentrate in college. I went home and I was waiting for the
night. I saw the moon high up in the sky and sang as usual after everyone at
home slept:
Moon oh dear moon, the stars shining so
bright
Oh night, you are so beautiful, can’t have
you out of sight
Help me find the answers to all the
questions that lay ahead
Night oh beautiful night, stars start your parade,
talk to my heart
And help me find the answers to all the
questions that lay ahead
No one had really ever taught me
this song. I hadn’t even told Abhi or Marsella about this. But I remember
singing this right from the time I knew how to remember. This song always gave
me an insight, gave me answers, not literally, but in my heart. Whenever I was
troubled, or wanted reasons, I often stared at the night sky and sang this
melodious song. And my heart knew what to do next. As I sang this, I picked up
my cell phone and called Mr.Fiddlesworth, not caring that it was 3 a.m. At the
second ring, a man answered, “Hello?” And the voice sounded familiar…
