Free The Accidental Apprentice by Vikas Swarup

businessman. ‘I am in love, didi, ’ she kept harping, even breaking into a corny love song.
    â€˜You don’t fall in love when you’re fifteen, Alka,’ I counselled her. ‘This is simply infatuation. The boy is trying to take advantage of you.’
    â€˜Love doesn’t have an age limit, didi, ’ she retorted. ‘It happens when it happens. And it lasts a lifetime. You’ll see when I marry him.’
    â€˜And what will Papa say when he finds out about your little romance?’
    â€˜He won’t find out. I know you will keep my secret, didi. You are the only person I trust with my life.’
    â€˜Then you have to trust me when I tell you that what you are doing is not only irresponsibly wrong, it is incredibly stupid as well.’
    Despite using every argument, every threat, bluster and influence, I could not persuade Alka to end her liaison. She was as obstinate and headstrong as I was insistent and persuasive. Eventually we reached a compromise of sorts. I extracted a promise from her that she would temporarily suspend her relationship with the boy. In return, I would not tattle about this to anyone, least of all Papa.
    Though I trusted Alka, I started monitoring her discreetly from that day, even rummaging through her things when she was not in her room. Two weeks went by without further incident, and then one night I discovered a small package she had secreted inside the toe of her shoe. It was a rolled-up manila envelope. Inside it was a clear plastic packet containing a brown powder-like substance. It looked like a sachet of brown sugar, but I had seen enough films to know it was high-grade heroin.
    I called Alka into my room and closed the door. ‘How did this come into your possession?’ I asked her coldly, holding aloft the sachet.
    â€˜Where did you find it?’ she asked in fearful agitation.
    â€˜Answer my question. Who gave it to you?’ I repeated sternly.
    â€˜My boyfriend,’ she replied with downcast eyes.
    â€˜I thought you had broken off from him.’
    â€˜I tried to but I can’t,’ she moaned. ‘He’s my oxygen. I’ll die without him. And he’ll die without me. He almost cut his wrist the day I told him I won’t see him any more.’
    â€˜It only goes to show that he is a sicko, besides being a drug dealer.’
    â€˜He’s not a drug dealer. And I am not doing drugs. We tried it just once. And that, too, only as an experiment.’
    â€˜An experiment that might make you an addict, even end up taking your life.’
    â€˜Why do you have to take everything so seriously, didi? ’
    â€˜Nothing can be more serious than drugs, Alka. You betrayed my trust. The water has now passed over my head. I’ll have to report this to Papa.’
    â€˜No, didi, ’ she said vehemently, clutching my arm. ‘I swear I’ll kill myself if you breathe a word about this to Papa.’
    â€˜Drugs will kill you before that, Alka,’ I said and brushed her aside.
    Papa was engrossed in a newspaper when I barged into his study. ‘Your daughter Alka has started doing drugs. Please deal with her,’ I said without preamble, dropping the plastic sachet in his lap like a discarded banana peel.
    That night there was the mother of all showdowns in the house. Papa was notorious in the Academy for his strict ethics and discipline. I consider myself lucky that I inherited only his dark skin, not his dark temper. Papa always believed he was meant for higher things, that teaching school kids was beneath him. And he took out his frustration on them. Stories were still circulating about the time he flogged a student who had made the mistake of bringing a bootlegged copy of Playboy to class, until the boy was reduced to a quivering mass of lacerated flesh. The students used to cower in his presence. His tests could reduce anyone to tears. The school was aware of his combustible emotional