Chapter 9

Anjali rushed to meet Rahul. Rahul asked her to come in with a smile.

Anjali: Im terribly sorry Rahul. Im very sorry. Im pretty ashamed of what I’ve done, if I’ve to be frank. I shouldn’t have been so bad to you. I was in fact scared if I’d fall for you after all that you did to me. I didn’t want that to happen. So I decided to shun you till my bachelors were over. But then Vinay was released and I did not want any harm to you because of him. I’d have never done it to you otherwise Rahul. You were so damn good a friend to me.

Saying this, she broke down. The dams that her eyes were, broke down and gave way to rivers of tears. As Rahul stretched his hand out to wipe a tear, he felt a sudden flash of pain, a gush of tear through his back. He turned. There stood Vinay, with that blade, which he once tried to kill Rahul before he went to the asylum. Sadly, Shreyas wasn’t around to warn Rahul this time. Another ghastly swipe, and Rahul lay on the floor, on his back. He slapped Anjali tight . As he could escape, Shreyas turned up with the police. Shreyas went close to Rahul. A dying Rahul smiled one last time at Anjali, and then thanked Shreyas for everything, pushing a piece of paper in his hands, saying, “Publish this! In your name! N is not 1!!” and died.

The memories still live with Shreyas, and so do the tears. He had not tried to open the piece of paper for the last 35 years. It was way too overwhelming for him to read what was in. When he opened it this time, he found the handwriting too disturbing. It was vintage Rahul, ununderstandable was an understatement. He let the piece of paper lie on the tea table, and went on to drink his cup of tea.

What he did not realise was that the paper had the solution for the P=NP, unsolved millennium problem. Rahul had solved it the night before he died, even though the combined research they did together, had not yielded anything. He could not discuss this with Shreyas, as he had been killed by then. He often joked to Shreyas, saying the solution of P=NP, yielded N=1, and hence his last words.

Thirty five years hence, the problem is unsolved otherwise yet, and the one million dollars promised by the Clay Mathematical Institute to the first correct solver of this problem, still lies devoid of its rightful owner, who fell prey to the wars of love and friendship.