The face looked familiar, recognizable, even when viewed through the thick glasses on his face, though the boy was standing some hundred feet away, across a busy four-way street crossing on a Monday morning at peak rush hour.

"Rehaan!" whispered Deb to himself.

They had been in the same college until Rehaan left in his first year after the final-term examination. Rehaan had been two years his junior in college, so he was a fresher when Deb was already in his third year.

The other person had moved away and, for a moment, Deb stopped thinking to search for him. He looked left and then right.

Rehaan was crossing the street. Should he follow and meet up with him? A deep anguish grasped his heart, an intermingled sensation of guilt and shame. How could he face him after all the things that had happened? What would he say?

No, guilt could wait. He had to catch up to him first. Rehaan was gone again.

The other boy was entering a café.

Deb had already crossed the street, and reached the café. He was now poised undecided before the aforementioned  entrance. Could he talk to him? What if he pretended not to recognize him or refused to talk?

No, he had to fix things. At the very least, he had to try.

He took a deep breath and walked in...

Rehaan was sitting in one of the window seats in the corner, overlooking the street outside. The dark-haired young man with serious, hazelnut eyes half-hidden behind light shades cut an exquisite figure in his casual grey jeans and t-shirt. He watched the outside world with an absent-minded gaze.

He was sipping from a cup of hot, brewed coffee in one hand and fidgeting impatiently with his phone on the table.

Deb panicked again. This was probably an inappropriate time to call on him. What if he was waiting for his girlfriend?

'Yes, it would be rather awkward to call on him now', he thought to himself, 'Maybe some some other time.' 

Yet he could not retreat immediately. He knew it was an excuse. Something strange in Rehaan's looks struck his mind. His tranquil features, those placid eyes, something about his demeanour marvelled, almost stunned Deb.

He sat down in a nearby chair. He just wanted an opportunity to speak to his erstwhile junior. He knew how meaningless that might be but he had to try.

He averted his eyes away from the object of his reminiscences. He could not undo the damage...

Those eyes, their eerie expression, that explicit show of calmness – almost like those of some ragged undertaker, indifferent and accepting even in the face of death.

Now why did he think of that? He had seen Rehaan look like that before, at the hostel—the place where they first met. The centre of their activities, the place where Deb and his fellow students regularly tormented this lonely fresher. Ragging. Hazing. Those words belittled the extent of their crimes!

Rehaan had always seemed faraway. He looked that way even as they punched and kicked him, and left him in utter agony alone in that friendless, inhumane existence. The boy accepted all of it with equanimity on his part, never complaining, not even a sign of irritation...

That was it; he never lost his temper, never! He never spoke back! It was always that way. That quiet, accepting manner, that gentle smile feel, so enduring...so superior! Nothing breached that outer façade of studied indifference.

That was what fuelled further punishments! Nevertheless, it was not his fault. In his heart-of-hearts, Deb knew protests only worsened situations, non-acceptance led to greater violence but Rehaan's silence was still provoking.

Deb knew the tormentors but he always turned a blind eye, leaving the fresher to suffer. He had not tried to help, he did not want to be at odds with his peers... A burning sense of guilt consumed his mind.

No matter how they treated him the night before, any encounters with him the following morning would be answered with a smile. Rehaan smiled a lot. It was one of his most endearing traits.

Deb could never forget it. His heart reached out to the boy; he ached to tell him how he really felt. How sorry he was. How badly he craved forgiveness.

As he sat lost in his ponderings, someone sat down in the chair opposite to him. Deb had not noticed.

"Good morning, senior!" greeted the occupant.

The shades were gone. Deb looked up to see Rehaan seated before him, smiling as always, lips slightly parted, a dimple on one cheek, a picture of carefree youth.

"G...Good morning!" he replied, doubtfully.

"Do you remember me?"

"Umm..."

"I'm Rehaan."

"Yes, I..." he hesitated.

"We were in the same college about a year ago. We stayed in the same hostel, remember?" His eyes were alive. There was no abhorrence in his features, no sign of malice. Not even distaste.

He looked at his former hostel mate without a hint of dislike. Deb could not meet those eyes. Not after everything his 'friends' had impressed upon the body of their owner...

"Well? Remember?" Rehaan repeated.

"Yes, of course!" said Deb, without looking up.

"So, how are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

Deb was uneasy with the situation.

"Are you still staying there? At the hostel, I mean."

"Yeah. I am." Deb tried not to sound guilty.

"Oh, I'm not bothering you, am I? I mean, you're probably waiting for someone."

"What?"

"You looked like you were expecting someone."

"No, it's okay. I'm here alone."

Rehaan was not convinced, "Are you not feeling well?"

Deb looked up and forced a smile, "I'm fine, really."

"Good." He grinned back, "Coz you look upset. I thought it was because of me"

Deb could not comprehend how to answer that. How could he answer that? Thankfully, Rehaan did not push for a reply. 

There was an awkward pause which neither party volunteered to break. 

After a moment or two of silence, the older boy decided to take the initiative. The café allowed smoking indoors. Deb took out an old-fashioned cigarette case from his jacket and held it open in front of his guest.

"Here," he offered.

"No, thanks! Had enough of those for a lifetime!" said Rehaan, pointing at a darkened mark on his left wrist.

Deb put the cigarette back in its case. How could he be so insensitive?

*****

He recalled the incident...

It was just before the term exams. Rehaan had to run errands for his seniors but he had refused to do that on account of the exam. He needed some time to study, he had explained.

That led to a minor scuffle with a fourth year senior. The seniors decided to teach him a lesson. Phrases like 'putting him in place' and 'teach him who's boss' reigned high that night.

As punishment, the unlucky youngster was stripped down to his underwear. Then the seniors had stubbed burning cigarettes all over his body until he was bleeding. The boy had tried to resist for a bit but it was not enough to quench their bloodlust.

After a while, Rehaan stopped responding. His eyes were empty and no amount of burns could elicit a reaction from those cold eyes. It was as if it the pain did not matter, or rather as if it could not matter.

That of course made matters worse. The situation soon morphed into a all out torture session which had left the boy with a fractured right arm. Rehaan had to skip the tests and he dropped out a month later.

*****

Deb was a by-stander but this memory served to double his guilt complex.

He wanted to apologise, wanted to tell Rehaan how he felt but 'sorry' was the one word stuck in his throat, just when he needed it!

"Hey, did I lose you?"

"Um... no, no. Just remembered something."

"You don't mean you remembered that night?" Rehaan teased.

Deb's face flushed. He was at a lose for words.

"Hey, forget it. I didn't mind. How are your classes going?"

What was this boy made of? He 'didn't mind'?

"Classes are good," said Deb, relieved at the change of topic, "Which college are you study..."

At that instant, Rehaan's phone sprang to life. He held up a finger to Deb and looked at the screen, and then outside the café window before saying apologetically, "Sorry, senior! I have to go! Urgent call!"

He left the café immediately. The waiter came by.

"Order, sir?"

"I was just leaving!" said Deb as he hurried towards the door.

As he stood outside the café door once more, he looked around, desperately hoping the other boy had not strayed too far. He knew it was stupid to follow Rehaan but he wanted to apologise.

Luck seemed to be smiling on him today! He saw the younger man turning right, two crossings ahead.

Deb ran to the spot just in time to see the other turn left at another crossroad. When he reached this spot, Rehaan's frail form had already vanished from sight. Fortunately, there was only one turn here, Deb ran on.

The chase continued for a full twenty minutes. Rehaan seemed to be running. What was the hurry?

The boy turned into a back lane.

'That's a dead end!' thought Deb.

He hastened his pace. He would catch up. He would finally tell him.

As Deb was about to turn the corner, logic caught on.

They were in a by-lane, guarded on all sides by the crumbling walls of abandoned factories. It was a deserted part of town. Why would the boy rush to this place? Who was he expecting to meet here?

Deb was already in the lane now.

He was terrified at the scene before him.

Rehaan stood at the far end, with a gun cemented to his hands. At his feet lay a man, full six feet of him, in a puddle of red. A strong stench of rust filled the air.

In the confusion, Deb tried to steal away but Rehaan saw him.

"Stop! Put your hands up, turn around." he ordered.

Deb felt a chill run down his spine. That commanding tone was far removed from the memories he had of his junior. This Rehaan was nothing like the mild mannered fresher he knew at the hostel.

Every muscle in his body was taut with fear. Deb put his hands up and slowly turned to face the murderer.

Rehaan's appearance was one of stern command and utmost control but that changed quickly when their eyes met. His face softened into a kinder expression—was it remorse?

"Senior? I am so sorry it had to be you but I have no choice."

With that, Rehaan lifted the gun in his hands and pointed it towards Deb. His voice was almost dejected but the reason was hard to guess.

"But why?" Deb tried to plead.

"I cannot leave witnesses. Orders. Simple, right?" he was smiling again.

"No, I mean why did you kill him?"

"I was ordered to! Say your prayers!" there was a touch of lunacy in his tone.

"Is that enough reason to kill a man?"

"Oh, come now! People kill for lesser reasons. Who are you to judge?"

"But...you don't even know him, do you?"

"I don't need to know him, do I?"

"You cannot violate a life that easily! It's not right." Deb's eyes filled with tears. He had said more than he meant to.

Rehaan snapped for the first time. "Really? That is so unexpected of you, senior! As for the 'life-is-precious' cliché, it was either his life or mine! I made the easy choice."

"It's not right!" murmured Deb.

"Come, come, senior, not you too. 'It's not right'," he mocked, "Since when did you board the righteous train? Did you ever stop because I was in pain?"

"Well, I..."

"Well, no! It was okay as long as you didn't have to get hurt, right?" Rehaan's voice was taunting, "It's okay as long as you aren't the one in trouble."

"I did not mean to..." Deb's voice cracked, "I really didn't want to..."

"Neither did I. I have limited choices. I may let you live but you will never be able to communicate again—trust me, it is a terrible choice. Secondly, and the easier one," Rehaan's index finger was firm on the trigger now, "I may end your life now and spare you the pain – you never did it for me though!"

That last remark broke the dam of pent up emotions. Words gushed out of Deb's heart, "I did not want to hurt you. Rehaan, I'm sorry. That's what I wanted to say all along.  I didn't help you. I was scared of standing out and making enemies. I'm sorry. I followed you this morning because I wanted to apologise. I was just scared..."

"Scared? You couldn't do anything to help? Not even that time when they made you tie me to the bed and you had me belted? What about when I begged you for water and you pretended not to hear me? Or how about the time you all..." Rehaan's voice was on a crescendo but it descended abruptly as he said, "Anyhow, I personally hold no grudges."

"Rehaan, I am sorry. Believe me, please. I only followed you so I could say sorry," Deb sobbed.

Rehaan seemed restrained and cold again, "You followed me for just that? You shouldn't have done that."

"But I wanted to apologise. I know I can't take back the pain but I am sorry. I really want to make it up to you."

"Do you mean that?" the playfulness seeped back into his tone.

"Yes, I do. Please forgive me. I never wanted to be a part of it all. I never wanted to hurt you."

"Really?"

"Yes, I got caught up in it. I know that's no excuse but I didn't know what to do." Deb was crying, "I'm sorry, Rehaan. Could you forgive me?"

The assassin was quiet, his eyes focussed on the ground, "I forgive you."

The atmosphere changed. The gun was lowered and Deb took the cue to put his hands down. The two boys stood in peaceful silence. The tension lifted.

Deb was curious now, "Did you drop out of college because of us?"

"Drop out? No! I did that because my employer told me to do it."

"Employer? Is this what you do for a living?"

"Yep. To live."

"What are you, a hired killer?"

"I prefer 'assassin'. Sounds cooler, right?" the familiar grin lingered on the young, clean-shaven face.

"Maybe. How long have you been doing this?"

"Long time, actually, I started way back in school,"

"Who were you after when you joined the college?"

"This guy. This one took me over a year of trailing. Master was getting impatient to be honest."

"Who is he?"

"Why don't you see for yourself? You may thank me for it!" jeered Rehaan, kicking the corpse over.

Deb came closer to look. "The ex-principal? He was..."

The shot went through his heart. There was a look of mild surprise in his eyes as they turned glassy and lifeless. Deb clutched his chest and collapsed on the ground.

A momentary cloud of regret floated onto the assassin's face.

"Sorry, senior! Forgive me too. I caused you so much trouble today. I knew you weren't a bad person. I wish we had gotten to know each other better. I didn't way to kill you but you see..."

His mobile rang at that moment.

'Damned timing!' Rehaan cursed as he answered the call.

"Are you done yet?" the caller demanded.

"Yeah!"

"What took you so long?"

"A few memories, some collateral damage," he replied lightly.

"I'm not surprised, he was your college principal! But I need more on that collateral damage. I want a full report. Get back to the hive, you have a new job."

"Is it at another college? I hate classes!"

"Quit jabbering! Just get back here."

"Copy that!" said Rehaan, hanging up.

He sighed, deeply. Then he bent over Deb's dead body and whispered one last time, "Sorry, senior. I don't hold grudges so don't come back to haunt me. Sweet dreams!"

A moment later, he was seen walking out of the lane, whistling to himself...