Mish' Fiction

“Do you want to grab something from your home before leaving?” he asked after she was seated in his car.

She shook her head, then asked as he started driving out of the institute, “Don’t you have to grab something?”

“No,” he replied plainly.

“Talk Rupali,” he said as they pulled up on the state highway. It was narrow and was not in the best condition, but it was the shortest possible route to her hometown.

“She has heart troubles and is also severely diabetic. Surgery is highly risky. So, doctors have been avoiding it. She had a bad attack today.”

“Someone is there with her?”

“I told her so many times to resign and come to stay with me. At least a good hospital would have been close-by. My aunt is there, but she herself is out of her wits. Uncle is not in town.”

Paritosh remembered that Rupali’s father had died in her childhood. Her mother worked as a lecturer in the women’s college in her town. Although she stayed with Rupali’s uncle and aunt, she had always supported herself and Rupali on her own. The house they stayed in was ancestral property.

“Then you must keep your wits together, Rupali.”

She nodded and tried to keep her tears in check.

“So, you had come back for her?” he tried to keep a conversation going.

She nodded again, “She never let me know the exact extent of her problems. I sometimes think that staying in US and flying her there for treatment might have been better. She’d have gotten better care.”

“People from world over come to Tata Memorial for getting treatment, Rupali. We’ll get her here and she’ll get the best treatment possible.”

“She is so stubborn,” talking was helping her and she continued, “Her health was deteriorating, but she won’t leave her job.”

“She is used to her independence.”

“I know. She has brought me up all by herself. Kaku was also too young when Baba died. He could barely support himself. But I can take care of both of us now. But she just won’t let go. I won’t hear another argument from her any more. If only she survives…”

“Don’t lose hope…”

“How have you lived with so much of hopelessness for so many years, Dr. Khanna? I already feel drained.”

“Don’t lose hope before you have to.”

The conversation went on intermittently until they reached her home. Paritosh noticed her keeping the pen in one of her pockets, as she rushed inside the house. She hadn’t tossed it aside even in her current distraught state of mind. Something inside him melted at that moment.

Rupali’s aunt was indeed out of her wits. It took some effort to get enough information out of her. The attack was bad, but Rupali’s mother was stable for now. However, the blockage was serious. The doctor had advised them to take her to Mumbai immediately and get expert opinion there.

Rupali spoke to the doctor on phone and they decided to take her immediately. “We will take the national highway,” Paritosh said, “It will be a longer drive, but road is good and hence safer.”

Rupali nodded. She was conscious of how much trouble he was taking for her. But she had no options but to accept his favours at that time. She wasn’t in a position to handle it by herself.

—

Back in Mumbai, the doctors decided to keep her under observation for two days before deciding on the surgery.

“Can I suggest something?” he said when they came out of doctor’s cabin. It was almost midnight by then.

She looked at him questioningly.

“Don’t go on a leave. You will just worry yourself to sickness. Work will keep you occupied. You are not needed here anyway. Your mother is sleeping. And you can always come back after classes. Take leave when they decide to operate.”

Experience speaking, she thought! But before she could make up her mind about his advice, her thoughts went back to the incident from earlier that evening. How abruptly had he withdrawn his hands and left? He hated her, didn’t he? He didn’t want to do anything with her. And yet – here is was. Driving her around, helping her admit her mother, helping her cope with the situation… Shouldn’t she at least try to clarify? He may not believe her. But…

“Dr. Khanna,” she began slowly, “I don’t know how to thank you for everything. It is no secret to me how generous and kind-hearted you are. But by doing so much for me, you have surpassed even yourself. I know how much you hate me. My presence makes you uncomfortable. But you always bear it gracefully. I am… I am so sorry…”

“Rupali,” he stopped her and thought for a moment about how to reply. He had to say the right thing. She shouldn’t feel miserable on his account, “I do not hate you and I have come to terms with my mistakes. There is no need for either of us to be uncomfortable with the other.”

“Mistakes?”

“Yes. Mistakes. And mine, not yours. Bets like those, pranks… They were natural for you. You were young. I should have known better.”

“Natural for me?”

“I won’t lie. I had felt humiliated and I was angry at you. Angry enough that I had decided never to see you again. I had left the institute at the first chance. But now, I realize my mistake. It was all so wrong. And not because of your bet. In fact it was good that it was a prank from your side. If you had been serious, it would have been even more disastrous. And I would never have been able to forgive myself for misleading you. It was a big, horrible mistake from my side. I had gotten carried away. I hope you have moved on from that.”

With every word of his, she felt her world crumbling down once again. He had let go of his grudges and anger at her. But not because he believed her feelings. Not even because he gave into his own feelings for her. He had done so because he thought those feelings were wrong? He was saying that if her feelings had been genuine, it would have been wrong. But those were genuine! It meant that she could have no hopes of her feelings ever being accepted by him. They were wrong in his eyes. Wrong! He hoped that she had moved on. Moved on from the ‘mistakes’. But if moving on was needed for her, it was not from the ‘mistakes’, but from her feelings. And she hadn’t moved on from those. Not because she hadn’t tried. She had tried. But…

That night was fresh in her memory. David, whom she had met through common friends and whom she had been dating for a while, had come to her house. They had gotten into the bed together. They were still making out when her phone had beeped. The sound was irresistible to her. She had created a small application that notified her every time there was a Google alert for his name. Paritosh’ name. It was that application. “I must see this,” she had pushed David away and picked up the phone. It wasn’t about him. It was some other Paritosh Khanna. A small-time TV actor, whose alerts she often got and felt disappointed. The disappointment showed this time too.

“What happened?” A frustrated David had asked impatiently.

“Nothing. I was waiting for something.”

“You can tell me. You look so disappointed.”

“Nothing Dave. I think you should leave. This isn’t a great time.”

Her mysterious behaviour had infuriated him in past too. And they had been together long enough for him to press on and forcibly take her mobile to see what was on it. “Google alert? Who is Pa-ri-tosh Khan-na?” He had pronounced the Indian name with some difficulty.

“He was my professor during undergraduation,” she had come clean. There was no point in prolonging the game.

“What the fuck! You have a Google alert set up on him?”

“I just follow his research.”

“You get out of bed to see the alert and send your boyfriend away after that. I am sorry, but that is more than just following the research, Rupali. This is unhealthy obsession to say the least.”

“You are making a mountain out of a molehill,” her protest had been weak.

“Very scholarly expression. But no. I am not making a mountain out of a molehill. I should have known. Your coldness should have been a dead giveaway. I don’t know what I was thinking. If possible get a hold of yourself, and don’t toy with people when you have nothing to give to them. See a psychiatrist. Good bye, Rupali.” David had gotten dressed and was out of the house within a minute. They never talked again. She had spent rest of the night awake, head buried in her hands. Giving up on every hope of moving on!

“Rupali!” Paritosh’ voice brought her out of her thoughts, “Are you okay? I am not angry at you, not any longer. I am telling you the truth. There is nothing to worry about.”

“I am fine,” she lied.

He had said the right thing, hadn’t he? But it didn’t seem to do her any good at all. Then he remembered a two-year old video she had, a pen clutched on to desperately and kept in the purse safely even in her most tumultuous moments, and her jumping towards him and panting with worry about his fingers in the door groove. Had. He. Said. The. Wrong. Thing?

“Dr. Khanna. You should go back home. I will stay here for the night. I will come back in the morning.”

“But…”

“Thank you, Dr. Khanna. For all the help. I am not going on leave. I will be back in the morning. Good night.” She turned and went away without giving him a chance to say anything. He looked on for a while; then turned to leave. She had also looked back. But after she was sure that he would have turned.

—

To be continued

She hadn’t opened her mouth. But could he trust her? Things had changed since that day. After sharing the most personal parts of his life with her, it was not possible for him to stay aloof from her. And she had started paying more attention to him. Or at least he had started noticing her attentions.

“Do you eat fish?” she had bursted in to his office one day.

“Why?”

“Because I have some for you.”

“And where did you get it from?”

“Now that’s not fair. I asked a question first. And you have already asked me two in return without replying to mine.”

He had laughed at that and had realized immediately how rare that was. He didn’t laugh very often. “Sorry! So what was your question?” A smile still played on his lips.

“Do you eat fish?”

“Yes. I do. And to compensate for not answering earlier, let me answer any related questions to be asked in future as well. I am omnivorous. I eat almost everything.”

“Good then. Try this,” she opened a tiffin box and offered it to him. The box had some fried pieces of fish.

“Where did you get these from?”

“One of my neighbours was in town. Ma sent some through him.”

“They are delicious.”

“She is a good cook. But then all kids feel that way about their mothers, I believe.”

He had laughed again and replied, “But your mother really is. It is delicious.”

“Then have some more.”

“They are for you.”

“Far too many. And I can’t keep them for long. There are no refrigerators in the hostel. Have them please.”

Yet another day she came with some sweets.

“What’s the occasion?”

“A very auspicious one. It’s my birthday,” she had replied with a grin.

“Oh! Wow. I had no idea. Happy Birthday, Rupali. I am sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t even have a gift.”

“That’s easy. You can compensate by giving me an ‘A’ in the project.”

He had mocked a frown, “You are bribing me?”

And both of them had broken into laughter. He had started laughing quite often in her presence.

“Wait Rupali,” he had stopped her when she had made to leave, “I know nobody writes these days, except to put signatures on forms once in a while. But still…” He had taken out a pen from his drawer and had offered it to her. “My advisor had given it to me when I had completed my Ph. D. I kept it with me for all these years. Time to pass it on. Happy birthday.”

Rupali had been surprised beyond belief. It was obvious that it meant a lot to him. For him to have kept it in his drawers all the time. When she took the pen from him, there was a moment when they had held it at the same time. Their fingers hadn’t touched, but it had still sent shivers down her spine.

“Thank you,” she had mumbled, “I couldn’t have gotten a better birthday gift.” She did not dare meet his eyes. She was afraid they would give away more than either of them was prepared for.

—

Rupali stared miserably after Paritosh. She closed the door after he was out of her sight. She was crying. It won’t do to leave the door open. She went back to her chair and sat on it with her head buried in her hands. She remembered the fateful day. It was sometime in the beginning of the last semester at the institute. She was having an enthusiastic discussion with a group of her friends, which sounded so silly to her now.

“Most of us are very easy to manipulate,” she was arguing, “You just need good enough actors.”

“I think most of us can see through what is fake. Only if we have decided to look the other way do we get manipulated. Especially in the matters of heart,” Padma had objected.

“What is a matter of heart?”

“What could be a matter for heart? Relationships, romance…”

“Oh! Those are some of the most manipulated things in the world.”

“You sound very confident?”

“I’m very confident.”

“You can manipulate people into loving you.”

“You didn’t talk about love. You talked about relationships, romance, dates…”

“I didn’t talk about dates. But let’s say date. You think you can get anyone to agree to a date.”

“Define a date.”

“Umm… A coffee invitation from somebody who is not a buddy, let’s say.”

“Coffee?”

“No. That is easy to manipulate. A meal.”

“Outside the campus,” someone else had decided to add an extra condition.

“Dinner, not lunch,” came another addition.

“In a five-star hotel,” chimed in someone else.

“Come on,” Rupali had objected to this one, “Not a lot of people can afford that one. Manipulation has to be within reason.”

“All right. At least to a nice, fancy restaurant.”

“Assuming we are talking about people in the campus, and not rickshaw wallah, or daily-wage workers or grade four staff, that is reasonable,” Rupali had agreed.

“Okay then. Shall we bet?”

“Who do I have to get a date with?”

The names of some of the boys in the institute had popped up at first. From complete dudes to complete nerds. Detailed discussion had followed on what kind would be more difficult to manipulate. And then Padma had come up with the golden answer. By then Rupali was already regretting her bravado. She could have backed out. But when we are young, we tend to see an issue of prestige in trivial things.

“Not a student. A professor.”

“What? No!” Rupali had tried to protest.

“Why not? We are not talking about a rickshaw wallah, or daily-wage workers or grade four staff.”

“Some of them might even be able to afford a five-star hotel.”

Rupali had decided that she’d put up the facade of confidence for the time being and hoped that people would forget about it later on.

“Okay. Who?”

“Dr. Khanna. Paritosh Khanna,” Padma had suggested. The reason was not difficult to guess. If trying to get a date with a professor wouldn’t already be awkward enough, Dr. Khanna was known to be one of the most aloof professors. Not many people had seen him smile. He had never been seen scolding anybody, and doing anything frustrated professors usually did, but everyone was still scared of him.

What they didn’t know, however, that he was relatively relaxed with Rupali. She had smiled inwardly on hearing the name. He was writing recommendations for her Ph. D. application. If she got an admit, she could definitely demand a treat from him for ‘doing well’. If nothing else, after she made the final presentation for her project, she could declare it as an occasion for celebration. A dinner outside the campus in a nice restaurant; that was all their definition of date was, right?

Little did she know that she’d forget all about the bet, she’d have a dinner four months down the line that would become a real date, and then this bet would come back to destroy her, turning it into a lifetime of misery.

She opened her drawer to take out the pen and clutched it close to her heart. Just then her mobile rang.

—

Paritosh was annoyed with the banging on the door. What could be so urgent that someone wouldn’t respect a closed office door, which was a rarity in the institute? And even if something was that urgent, couldn’t one try knocking before banging like that. He was frozen to his spot when on opening the door he found Rupali there. In a completely dishevelled state.

“I need a leave. For at least a week.” She was practically begging.

“What is wrong?” He asked, partly concerned about her state, and partly distracted from noticing the familiar pen in her clutches. She still had the pen? And why was she running around carrying it with her? In such disturbed state?

“My mother. She has grown unwell suddenly. I need to go home and get her to the hospital here. My Kaku, I mean my uncle, is not in town to help her. I must leave right away.” Given her state, he was surprised that she was so intelligible.

“Okay. Go then. I will take care of the formalities.”

She nodded and almost ran away. It was after she was out of sight that he wondered how she would go. He knew that her hometown was at two-hour’s drive from the institute. But she didn’t have a car yet. It was too late to take a bus. He ran after her and managed to catch her right outside the department’s building.

“How will you go?”

“I… Bus… No. I will call a taxi.” The pen was still clutched in one of her hands. With the other hand she fished out her phone from her jeans pocket and tried to make a call. But her hands were shaking badly. His heart sank on seeing her in that condition. He pressed her shaking hand stopping her from further futile attempts at using the phone. “Let me take you,” he said.

“But…”

“Just listen to me, okay? You are in no position to go by yourself. Taxi or otherwise. Wait for a minute. My car is in the parking lot.”

—

To be continued

The final year project spanned two semesters for undergraduate students. Rupali was doing hers with Paritosh and she had worked hard in the first semester. When she had requested him for recommendations for her Ph. D. admission applications, he had written glowing recommendations and unknown to her had even spoken to a few of his acquaintances at some of the universities she was applying to. He hadn’t regretted the decision. She was working even harder in the second semester meeting him almost every day with her progress report or with her questions.

They talked about things beyond her project. Nothing particularly personal, but it was still more than he usually talked to any student, or even any colleague. Their conversations would be about other academic stuff, her other courses, his research interests, institute’s policies, her asking for advice about how to plan a career in academics and research and so on. He sometimes wondered why he talked so much to her. Probably because she was mature for her age and he could speak to her like an equal. At the same time he didn’t feel threatened because she was much younger. She wouldn’t judge him, his choices or his life. It was a comfortable camaraderie he enjoyed in his otherwise lonely life.

It would have stayed at that if that call from hospital hadn’t come at a time when she was in his office discussing where she was stuck with her project. The call had disturbed him, as those calls always did! “I think… I need to go out right now… Let’s continue this discussion later, Rupali,” he had told her.

“That is fine. But where are you going? Is there a problem?”

“Nothing to worry about. I have to go to the hospital,” he had replied and then seeing that she was worried even more on hearing the word ‘hospital’, he had told her the name as a way of explanation, “JJD.”

That was a mental hospital. So, there wasn’t an accident or anything. But why a mental hospital? She hadn’t asked him then, but he had to tell her later.

“It’s my wife,” he had informed her. She was in the hospital for last seven years or so. “She got those attacks since her childhood. Doctors here identified them as severe anxiety attacks. But she never got any treatment at her parents’ home. They were more interested in hushing down any stories about the attacks she had and wanted to get her married early so that the prospects of her other siblings did not get marred.”

“What does that even mean?”

He had smiled patronizingly at her, “It probably sounds Greek to you, but for a large part of our population, getting all their kids married is the only and the ultimate goal they have in life.”

“And how can you find that amusing? Don’t you feel angry? Isn’t it unfair that you are saddled with this responsibility?”

He had sighed and leaned back on his chair, “You ask me difficult questions, Rupali. There are things that we just come to terms with.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t you hold her family responsible? Why wouldn’t you send her back to them and ask for a divorce?”

Paritosh had looked thoughtful for a while and then he had spoken. He had spoken quite a lot, quite uncharacteristically. “You asked me if I don’t feel angry. I had felt angry. Extremely angry. And you know what she told me? Or rather begged me to do. She told me that instead of sending her back to her family, I should leave her in Banaras or some place. That is what her family would do as well. But if she were sent back, everyone in the village would know, and it would be a trouble for her younger siblings and cousins, especially her sisters. She gave me another option too. She told me that she would happily write a suicide note, if I could arrange to kill her. She was too scared to commit suicide herself. Otherwise she would have done it long back.”

Rupali had looked like all the blood was drained out of her face.

“I’m sorry,” he had realized that he had said things that were too crass and had added gently. “I got carried away. I am scaring you.”

“No. Obviously you didn’t do either,” she had smiled weakly, “There is nothing to be scared about.”

“How could I? And then…” he had stopped himself. He was getting carried away again. He hadn’t realized that he was so eager to talk to someone about all of this. But how appropriate would it to tell all this to a student, especially when he had kept silent before everyone else all these years.

“Then?”

He had smiled, “Nothing. Let’s…”

“You can’t tell me half the story, Dr. Khanna. That’s not fair.”

“Real life stories are not fairy tales. They don’t have a happy ending. Or even a closure.”

“I know that by now. But I still need to know the rest.”

He had shaken his head at her persistence. Then he had decided that she had heard the worst already, and continued, “I had some questions to answer myself too. Why had I married her? Because my mother wanted a daughter-in-law who would serve her and take care of her in her last days. She wouldn’t leave our hometown and live with me here. So, Amrit, that is my wife, had stayed back with her. She never complained. She took care of her like a professional nurse here won’t have been able to do. All this while fighting through her own illness. Did I owe her nothing? I visited once a month and for a long time I didn’t even know about her problems. I had stayed longer during summer vacation once. It was then that she got one of her attacks and I came to know about it. When that happened, she had cried at my feet asking me to choose one of those two options, but not send her back. In that scheme of things was she a perpetrator or a victim? Sending her back would have been a lifelong punishment for her and not her family, who were the real culprits. My own family had done no better by her. I questioned my mother about not informing me and not getting her treated. Apparently they had been to a doctor in the town. He said everything was fine with her and she was just missing her parents’ home.  Once she settled down in her new home, everything would be fine. You didn’t have to be a doctor to know that the diagnosis was flawed. She was seriously troubled. I tried to convince my mother that both of them should come and live with me. But my mother wouldn’t agree. ‘If you are missing your wife so much, take her. I am not leaving my home,’ she would taunt me. And the idea of serving her in-laws at all costs was so ingrained in Amrit that she wouldn’t think of doing anything against my mother’s wishes.”

He had fallen silent, but Rupali urged him on, “Then?”

“I drove myself crazy thinking about it. Finally I decided to raise my voice against my mother. It didn’t come easy to me. I was not brought up that way. Parents’ wishes had been the final word for me all my life. They had wanted me to come back from US. I did. They had wanted me to marry Amrit. I did. But now I was responsible for Amrit’s wellbeing too. So, I decided to go home to get her here. But I didn’t have to rebel. Just as I was leaving for home, I got a call from Amrit telling me that my mother was breathing her last. She died minutes after I reached there. I brought Amrit here with me, but her problems only increased with time. The doctors told me that it was too late for her to get better. And after…” His voice had drowned again.

“Dr. Khanna?”

“This is crazy. Wrong. Why I am telling you all this?” he had suddenly grown extremely self-conscious.

“Because it doesn’t look like you have shared it with many people. Probably with no one. And we need to share our problems.”

“She wanted a baby,” he needed only a small encouragement to continue, “She was convinced that it would be a cure to her problems. Despite doctors advising against it. But pregnancy only made her condition worse. During one of the attacks she harmed herself and… the baby could not be saved. She had a complete breakdown after that and had to be institutionalized. There was no way she could lead a normal life here. And that is how she has been till now… She had a severe attack yesterday when I got the call. So, I went to see her. Sometimes she recognizes me and it helps her. But most of the times even that doesn’t happen.”

They had stayed silent for a while. Rupali needed time to process everything she had heard. “I’m sorry,” she had finally broken the silence with these words, “For you. But your wife is really lucky.”

Paritosh had shrugged not knowing how to feel about that complement. Then he had tried to change the subject, “Our discussion was interrupted yesterday. Shall we…”

“Not now,” she had stopped him urgently. Paritosh had looked at her for a moment and had realized that she was too affected. He had come to terms with all of it over the years, but he had told her too much in just a few minutes.

“Fine,” he had relented. She didn’t usually shy away from work. So, she must not be in a position to discuss. That’s why she had stopped him. “But don’t be so disturbed. Things happen. Life is not fair. But we don’t stop living.”

She had nodded.

“You want some coffee, or tea?” he had asked seeing that she was still quite shaken up.

The coffee invitation would have been the first step towards winning her bet with her friends, but she had long forgotten about it. Right then, she could really do with some coffee. So, she had nodded and they had walked to the department’s canteen to grab a cup.

They had sipped their coffee in awkward silence. Paritosh had looked around after a while and had spoken after ensuring that the place almost empty, “Rupali. You really shouldn’t have heard all of this. I know it sounds selfish that I should be preaching you after unburdening myself at your expense. But try to forget. It is sad and dark and I would hate it if it affected you.”

“I am fine. Don’t worry about me.”

He had nodded and had spoken again after a pause, “Not many people know about it here. Many think that I am not married or am widowed. Not that I want to deceive anyone. But I don’t want rumours and pity all around me either.”

“I won’t open my mouth, I promise. You can trust me,” she had said earnestly.

—

To be continued