Peanut Butter and Jelly

Prashant starts to look like a cute plump watermelon as the melting, crimson cherry-flavored popsicle dripping prevails over his green and black polka-dotted shirt. However, he was too busy to take awareness because he was too distracted by the harbor surrounding him. The North seagulls express their solitude by making the noise ‘Qaah, qaah’, due to the separation committed by the migration of the mother birds to the South. The turquoise waves caress the beige grainy sand while fizzing, departing leaving a wet imprint of fading waters. 

Prashant and I have always been best friends and since the death of my father and the divorce of his parents, our friendship only got stronger. We have always been Prashant and Bhivan, Once upon a time we were P, B and J; Prashant, Bhivan, and Jeremy, but he was racist so it didn’t work out. He would always complain about our shade of skin and why we never ate beef, so he had to be dropped like my microphone during Saturday night karaoke. Every week since my dad died, we’ve been coming to the harbor to buy our classic tricolored popsicle. Each of the three different colors has a distinct aura. These three colors make up every other shade in the color spectrum. They are the fundamentals of life itself.

“I’m going to start hitting the gym tomorrow” shouts Prashant over the ship engine rattle with his cheeks filled with marshmallows, bursting my thought bubble. Prashant eats everything in his way, I bet if bubbles were edible, he would not only burst my bubble but eat it too. “Don’t go to the gym, just grow enough to put the whales out of business. If you work out, then you’ll be hot like me” I joke. If I had a rupee for every time Prashant wants to lose weight but does nada about it, I would be stinking rich.

My head feels light and wet as I realize I’m drowning buckets, while Prashant is a whole dumpling coated in oil! I look up to see if it’s raining. I am proven wrong by the blazing sun as it whips my back and the tropic thick air suffocates my presence. Not only is the sun scintillating brighter but its circumference has expounded about 3 times larger. It seems this morning, the sun rose from the West, opposite to earth’s normal spin. Its almost like there is an emblem of a face sketch on the sun. While the sockets of my eyes burn out I try to make out a face.

I recognize that beaming smirk within a split second. “Jeremy? Am I seeing things? Lord Kaali, lord of eternal death? Has my time of departure come?” I shout to the sky. I look at Prashant to confirm I’m not hallucinating. “Please, let me have one more laddoo, then take my life, Please Kaali, have mercy! I love laddoo like Lord Krishna loved butter”. Of course, what did I expect? After all, Prashant was a laddoo, who ate laddoos, his life motto should be you are what you eat.

A loud trumpet-like vibe comes from the sky, blowing my mind away. “Prashant, was that last night’s daal curry coming out of the butthole? I thought we made a pact that you would only do it in the bathroom.” Prashant hastily defends himself by saying “No, what do you think I was doing in the pool this morning?”.  I throw the nastiest pair of eyes at him.

I realize that this is one of the signs of the world ending in the Geeta. Luckily, I have an app on my smartphone. My hands tremble as I reach into my oddly warm back pocket to get a hold of my shiny, black iPhone 11. The moment I find the app and open it. The Sanskrit letters one by one, start exiting from the screen into the air, turning into ash.

It cant all be over, can it? I’ve only lived 16 years of my life and I haven’t even mustered the courage to confront his killer? I should be happy ill finally leave this whirlpool of life and meet my dad. What will it be like in heaven drinking pools of honey? Or what about jumping from cloud to cloud as he chases me while running at a slow pace letting me get away? How will I give him nothing to be proud of? I must face the unavoidable memories.

I find the abandoned ice-cream truck and seize the last RBY popsicle from the profound cooler. Cold blocks of three colors with different textures, just a popsicle to many but a reminder of my father to me. Representing his different personalities, a cold outlook, but a taste to bring warm sweetness.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I know what to do. “Prashant, Remember the list of things I wrote the night my dad died? I think its time I finish that list.” I say, “Well, I think I’m going to finish Walmart’s stock of gummy candy.” I roll my eyes then laugh.

We finally arrive at the vinyl siding of Dereck Jini’s house, after several stops for snacks thanks to Prashant. Not even a square meter of it seemed comforting. By the looks of it, the architects must have been ignorant toward the idea of color. Geometric windows and granite enforced balconies. The metallic-looking plants that give off the aura that the man who lives here is probably an alien.

The doorbell noise rings in a drained manner indicating the need for new batteries. A 60-year-old man shrunken in height opens the door. “Is Mr. Jini home?”

“I am home.” He remarks. The mole at the top on his left cheek resonates with my faint memory of him. There was a time he would come over to our place for Diwali,  but how did he get so old so quickly? Must be side effects of guilt. His stare starts to get contaminating as I feign a fearless look.

“Mr. Derick Harry Jini, today I will tell you the truth of Mr. Teerthu Agarwal. Your actions inexcusable, unjustifiable, jailable but I am not here to do justice. The universe will destroy you someday. You thought my father was dangerous, intimidating, and relentless when he left your joint partnership to open his venture. You were scared of competition but he did it out of compassion and excitement if this idea worked out, he wanted to include you in the shares. Why didn’t he include you in the prior stages? Just because you wouldn’t have to incur the loss if it was unsuccessful.” Derick stares at me accompanied by a traumatized expression. and slams the door on our faces. After all, he is Jeremy’s uncle.

I look down on my popsicle to take another lick as I notice that the initial red layer has been turned into nothing but sticky juice laying on my fingers, away from the popsicle bringing some color onto the tarmac floor. Perhaps this is a symbol of my father’s unconditional love for Derick. Derick and my father’s bond was once like me and Prashant, except my dad’s best friend wasn’t the size of two people.

Prashant pulls a marshmallow out of his bag and I take one too.

I leave the vicinity and surrounding me is a smelly old chicken farm just like the smelly old man. I guess this is what he did with my father’s special blood money. I sneak a glance at Prashant to catch him drooling at the sight of the chickens around him. At this point, I guess he was considering becoming non-veg. These chickens remind me of that night.

My father was killed in the oddest yet brutal way.  The old hag took his 6-inch Colgate white with a blue striped toothbrush and he shoved it down my dad’s throat until he took his last breath. Blood was pouring out my dad’s mouth and I stood there like a coward. If only his throat was as big as Prashant’s, maybe I would still have someone to call Dad today. Prashant has a huge throat. Maybe if he was in my situation that night, he would have eaten the toothbrush as well as Dereck.

I was a chicken that night. I take notice that the yellow layer had already melted off the popsicle, yellow represents my cowardness. On the other hand, it signified my father’s loyalty and energy which he always gave to others. But on that night, I was useless. Just like Prashant’s gym membership. If only I went to Dereck and slapped the old man till his dentures came out. He would have no use for a toothbrush.

After stopping at the supermarket to buy Prashant noodles, a thought comes to my head. What if Prashant was thin as a noodle? Would he be a different person? My thoughts are interrupted by our arrival at the Baniaz Gardens. These gardens bring peace and tranquility to my heart. As I reach out to my popsicle and I see there is nothing left except an old, brown, stick. Blue is quite a peaceful color. It makes me feel calm, like the sky.

“Isn’t it peaceful here?” I ask Prashant. “It’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve seen. After Biryani of course,” says Prashant. “I’m more of a pilau guy though,” I say. I want my last days to be spent with Prashant, talking about food. There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now, except here.

Before my dad got married, he would always come here with Dereck and they would stare at the sky and think about life. Maybe Dereck was bored and he came up with weird murder ideas here. I start to think if Prashant would ever try to betray me. If he would be another Dereck. My thought bubble is burst once again. But not by Prashant, I see a cloud that looks like Jeremy. Its almost like he’s saying “You drop me, now I drop the sun on you”. Before I can react, Prashant has his popsicle stick by my neck in a strangling way saying “Time’s up, skinny noodle”.....