Prakash Das was a middle-aged man who had successfully avoided marriage. This was not easy for him, but teaching in a small hill station at a small school made it look effortless. Being unmarried was not seen as a taboo. Usually, if you are around Church priests for a long time, this was overlooked.

Prakash Das also had another trick up his sleeve. The school, which was not doing well in terms of admissions, changed drastically once he became a teacher there. The real thing that changed that year was Das having to do something magical with the students.

“This is something that is doable,” he would say.

The morning cool walks right up the hill, then to the church, was the morning routine for him. From there, he would hobble to the graveyard, thinking about death for some time and reciting elegies for the hundredth time.

The school gate was only a hundred meters away from the church premises. So, just before the bell would ring, he would hop inside the school and attend the assembly.

He had five hours, but he never complained. It was easy now, and sometimes the only thing that annoyed him was the staff room. But what really mattered to him was the library and a chat with the principal in the office every evening.

“You know, Prakash, this year our students might not get the district first. That Morning Mission school is doing well, I heard.”

Prakash sighed, “Oh, our kids love football more than physics class. How will they get success then?”

“Hey, you are the one who asked for a PT period for 12th standard students.”

“Yes, I did, but they seem to be running on the ground all the time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look outside,” he pointed to the students playing. “Today they have Chemistry class, and they seem to be playing. What happened to the chemistry master?”

The principal was furious. He went outside and yelled at the boys, “Come in and study, you buffaloes!” he screamed.

This was nothing new for the boys or Prakash. It was the usual scolding pattern of the principal. If any of them questioned his usage of slang, he would start with his explanation of the buffaloes and their grit.

Prakash laughed out loud. The Chemistry master was called into the room. A stout man entered, his face flushing.

“What happened? Why haven’t you asked the boys to come to class?” the principal started to shout.

“Bad stomach, sir,” he looked with shame.

“Get lost,” the man said sorry and walked out. Prakash felt sad. It was his fault, but like always, he had the power to get second chances. He imagined five minutes going backward in his mind. Then, like a movie in slow motion, things around him moved back.

“Principal, the students have come back to class,” he said and got up.

“Oh, good,” he replied. Prakash left the room, and he noticed the chemistry sir walking up to the room. “He is busy, you can go to class now.”

“Really? I heard he wanted me immediately. I heard he was angry.”

“No, no,” Prakash pushed him. “You can go now.”

This was how their school kids got the first mark every year. He would reverse time and mark the correct answers.

But the time only paused or reversed. He could not go into the future, and it was clear that this trick did not reverse his age. The rhapsodic serenity of the eucalyptus trees filled his heart with joy every day on his walk back home. His ailing father sat on the old chair, rocking and whispering his rosary. His mother, vibrant as ever, brought his hot tea with evening samosas. It was a good life, he thought. Never an ambitious one, he did not think much about using his powers to earn money. He did not even think about such an option.

The clock rolled by, but his mother did not look her usual self. “What happened?” He asked, entering the old tiny kitchen. The smell of wetness and tea filled it.

“Your aunt came today,” she sighed.

“Hmm,” he knew where this was going.

“She asked about your marriage…” Das detested his aunts visiting. They not only took things from their home but left a mine ready to blow in the family.

“So what?” He said, not really interested in asking further.

“She talked about a girl, and their family is interested. She is a teacher in a primary school,” she said, magically drawing a photo from the kitchen shelf.

She looked like a typical hill station girl, wearing sweaters and all. Her face skin was pinkish due to the harsh winters. She was cute but not as beautiful as the ones he had seen at school. The nuns, especially, were beautiful, but sadly they had dedicated their lives to God. In fact, if they were not nuns, he would have fallen in love with them.

But this was the one he had to settle for. He did not have any ego; many people assumed he was looking for some outstanding angel, but he simply wasn’t interested. He wanted to walk, become old, read books. In short, he wanted to be a priest without actually being one. His mother, however, was adamant, and so he let her make further steps. He knew he could reverse time whenever things did not go as he wished. He did not reply but went for another long walk. He had decided to give it a try and change time if things did not go as planned.

The house was small, and Prakash’s family had come as if it were some town festival, and the girl’s father kept coughing after every sentence.

“She is a good girl…cough…cough…”

The girl brought the customary coffee, bowing her head. Das took the coffee and took a sip, looking into her eyes. She was better looking than in the photo. But he knew she might not be this homely. He had read too many Indian women writers to guess what she was thinking.

The coffee was dry, and sugar was conveniently forgotten. When he was allowed to talk to her, this was the first thing he brought up. He had heard somewhere that girls tested a man’s honesty this way. Her face reddened. He must have sounded like an ancient, pre-independence, patriarchal jerk. But like magic, her face was radiant once again.

“I know my family might look intimidating and enormous, but they don’t come to my house, only during such special events,” he said, looking into her eyes. They were green like a cat he knew once.

“I am very poor. I am the one looking after this family. I can only marry if you allow me to take care of them.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said.

Even though he said it, he started to have doubts about its practicality. He was a simple man. He did not take loans or do anything extraordinary. He worked, saved a little, and enjoyed books and company. He did not wish for more stress. That was one reason he had refrained from marriage. He liked the setting very much.

He visited the girl’s house the next day to say that he was not in a position to marry. But when he visited, he was prepared a sumptuous meal. He did not have the heart to break the sad news. So he left. Then the answer came to him. He would reverse the time before accepting the first invite, then he wouldn’t be in this difficult situation. But when he tried to go back, he heard his mother talk before he entered the house about how much she liked the girl and how she wished her son accepted the marriage.

It was difficult now. He had to go further back to make the correction. But he had never gone back so far, he was afraid of the problems. When he tried, his head spun, and he knew it was dangerous. He came to the present, and he was sitting in the cloth shop selecting the dresses. He couldn’t remember how he had come there. He knew he was playing dangerously with time. The further he went back in time, he seemed to be returning further into the future. He didn’t want to risk it. He simply wanted to make minor changes.

Every night, sadness occupied his mind. Marriage was not a suitable thing for him. He would lose his freedom, and besides, he could live with little to no money, but now he had to take care of this new person. It was not about the responsibility, but something else that bothered him, but he couldn’t precisely state it. It felt like things happened without his will.

The wedding day arrived. The church was decorated. The priest looked at him and said, “Finally, my friend is getting married.”

“Yes,” he smiled. He had an impulse to reverse time and run away. But he didn’t. The marriage was over, and as evening approached, arrangements were made for the first night.

The girl sat comfortably, almost completely changed from her homely demeanor.

He did not speak; he sat there wondering how he should go about it. The girl looked at him and asked, “You are thinking of turning back time and escaping this place, aren’t you?”

Prakash Das was shocked. “How did you know?” He asked.

“You know how difficult it was to counter all your moves,” she sighed.

Prakash Das stood up. “How many times did you reverse time to escape this marriage?”

“But how did you know?”

“I knew about you for years, that is exactly why I plotted to marry you…” she laughed.

“But how?” Prakash Das was suddenly interested in this girl.

“Because I can move in time too, but I can move towards the future. I have already seen your plans, so I altered all your outcomes.”

“Mary, Mother of God,” his anger rose. “You tricked me.”

“No, I helped you reach your destiny,” she smiled and came towards him. “Just imagine with our powers we could change everything.”

Prakash Das stood there bewildered and let the girl kiss him. Then time stood still.