Mish' Fiction

In her drunken, drugged state, Sunita had slept off with a cigarette stub still burning. That’s what had caused the fire. It had spread slowly in the beginning and by the time Protim had woken up a large part of the house was already engulfed in it. He had hurried woken everyone else and sent them outside. Then noticing that the source was Sunita’s room he rushed to save her. It was too late to save her, even though he had dragged her burnt body outside. But he had damaged his eyes in the process. There were also burns on his neck, Kaveri had told me, but they healed with time. His eyes might improve if he went to Bangalore and seek better medical care. But he refused to do that. “There isn’t much left for me to see,” he had said and silenced everyone who tried to argue otherwise.

When I entered his room with the dinner tray, he was standing at the window, looking out at what he couldn’t see.

“Leave the dinner on table, Chanda,” he said, “Give me some water.”

I approached him with a glass. “Is the water cold?” he asked before I could hand him the glass.

“No Sir.”

“Who is it? Kavita, isn’t that you?”

“No Sir.”

“Who are you then? Whose voice is it?”

“Do you want me to bring cold water, Sir?”

“Who are you?”

“Chanda knows me. She let me come into the house. Into your room.”

“God! No. It’s not possible. Am I mad enough to hallucinate now?”

“You aren’t mad, and you aren’t hallucinating.”

“Where are you?” he groped around for me, “If it isn’t my hallucination, let me touch you, let me feel you. This voice will drive me mad, if I am not already so.”

I arrested his hand in mine.

“Sarah!” He freed his hand, his strength was still intact, and grabbed my shoulders. He frantically ran his hands over my face, neck, arms, waist and finally pulled me in a hug.

“This is her. This can be nobody else. I know these arms, this body…”

“And this voice.”

“But it must be a dream. I dream of it often. Of her coming back to me, and loving me, never leaving me.”

“And I will never leave you now.”

“You always say that and then disappear. You will disappear again. But hold me before you go away Sarah. Hold me close.”

I tiptoed and kissed him first on his eyes and then on his eyebrows, “There!”

“Sarah!” he finally seemed to have started entertaining the idea that I was really there, “It’s you. You have come back to me.”

“I have.”

“You are not dead. Not abducted by goons. You are safe. And you haven’t had to suffer for want of money?”

“I am safe and sound. I earned enough for myself and I have more money at my disposal.”

“Money at your disposal? Your family?”

“My brother mostly.”

“This is real. Shadows won’t talk about money, family. You have money at your disposal, Sarah. You are  a rich woman now?”

“I have a house in my name. If you don’t let me stay with you, I will sell it and buy the one next to yours. You can come there when you need company.”

“You have money Sarah. And you are united with your family. They would not let you stay with a blind old man like me.”

“It’s still not my family and they don’t take my decisions. My life is still my own. If they take away their house and their money, I could still rent a place near you.”

“And you will stay with me?”

“Of course. Unless you don’t want it. I will be your neighbor, your nurse, your housekeeper. I will be your companion — to read to you, to walk with you, to sit with you, to wait on you, to be your eyes. Don’t look so sad now. You must not be lonely and sad again until I live.”

He didn’t speak for a long minute. I started feeling embarrassed. Had I been too hasty? I had assumed that he would want to marry me. That he would claim me as his own at once. That’s what had prompted me to speak all that I had spoken. But he just stood there not reply, not giving any hint that he wanted it to be so. I realized that I might have a made a fool of myself. I began to withdraw from him, but he eagerly pulled me closer.

“No, no Sarah. You can’t leave now. I have felt the joy of you presence. I have so little of it left that I can’t give up on it. The world will call me selfish, brute. Let them. I need you. I want you, Sarah. Else my very soul will unravel and burn the entire world down in seeking its revenge.”

“I will stay with you; I have already told you that.”

“Yes. But you may mean one thing by staying with me, and I another. You know how to be kind, generous, how to serve. And you will be happy to be my nurse, to be my eyes, my housekeeper. You will make a sacrifice because you pity me. Of course, I should be happy with that, shouldn’t I?  Come on Sarah, tell me.”

“I will be whatever you want. If you think it better for me to be only a nurse and a housekeeper, I’d be content to do so.”

“But you can’t always be my nurse and housekeeper, Sarah. You are young. You will find love and marry.”

“I don’t want to be married.”

“But you should. If I were what I once was, I would make you want it. But now… A blind, old man… Burned and injured…”

He grew gloomy again. But I was cheered. He did want me. It was his blindness that worried him, and that didn’t worry me at all.

“When did you last shave? Or cut your hair? Or clipped your nails? You have grown to look like a bear, all hairy and black. I think it’s high time someone humanized you again.”

“At least on one hand, nails don’t grow anymore.” I hadn’t noticed him wearing a thin glove on his left hand. He took it off and I saw the stumps of his four fingers. The top of the fingers had been burnt away. Something burning must have fallen on his hands, while he was trying to drag Sunita away. Kaveri hadn’t mentioned this. She probably didn’t know. I lifted his hand up and planed a moist kiss on it.

“I thought you would be revolted. This ghastly sight…”

“You don’t even know what it looks like. And you aren’t doing well in your judgement of me. I am tempted to say something insulting to you. By the way, does someone even clean this room any longer? When were the sheets last changed? Why is there so much of dust on the heater? Let me call Kavita and make this room more livable. I will also have Chanda cook something more substantial for dinner. I am famished. You are too, but you seem to not remember to eat.”

—

To be continued

‘Saraaaah!’ I heard it again and stopped in my tracks. It was unmistakably his voice. I was in the garden by then. The main gate of the property was open and in my sight. But he was nowhere to be seen. The weather was warm, but I was chilled to the bones and started shaking.

Amol came running after me, “Sarah. What’s wrong? What are you…”

“I can’t talk right now, Amol,” I found my voice with difficulty, “Meera will arrange for anything you need. She knows you. Please find her.” Then I rushed back to my room.

I tossed and turned in my bed for couple of hours. I refused tea and snacks that Meera came to ask for. Finally I made up my mind to go to Hojukeri. I’d only try to find out about him from afar and not meet him. And I would try to steal a glance at him to convince myself that he was all right. Then I’d be back.

It was seven in the evening. If left for the bus-stop right away, I should be able to find an overnight bus to Bangalore, and another one to Madikeri from there. I called up the headmistress of my school and gave her some botched up excuse for a leave and packed up lightly.

Amol had left, I was informed to my relief. Meera insisted on packing dinner for me and as soon as she handed me the box, I left for the bus stop.

—

I got down at Madikeri this time and hired an auto for Hojukeri. Nobody was expected to pick me up this time and walking six kilometers would have meant losing time. Besides I would have to come back to Madikeri to find an accommodation if I needed to stay overnight. The auto would come in handy.

About a kilometer before Hojukeri, I stopped the auto and got talking to a shopkeeper on the pretense of asking directions for his plantation. What I heard there made my heart sink. Apparently there had been a fire in the house and the owner was injured badly. He no longer stayed in Hojukeri, but had shifted to Madikeri with the rest of the household. Would the shopkeeper know where in Madikeri did they live? I was a friend who had lost touch and did not have their number. He didn’t know, but I could ask his daughter’s nanny, who did not go to Madikeri with them and still stayed in the village with her own family. I thanked the shopkeeper and set out to look for Kaveri. Thankfully she was easy to locate. She screamed in excitement and delight on seeing me. I must see him right away, she insisted. He had suffered so much since I left.

“What happened?” my heart threatened to leap out of body and I was dying to go back to Madikeri to find him. But I also needed to know exactly what had happened. Kaveri’s narration of the events, as I later confirmed, was quite accurate.

—

Protim

“Oh dear, dear husband! How lonely you must have been without me to have fallen for that minger!” Sunita had grown more vicious during her absence from my life. Why had she come back anyway? Had she run out of handsome lovers? I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had. Drugs had taken a toll on her. She was still pretty, but the glow of youth and health that made her irresistible was gone. Her eyes were sunken, cheeks hollow and lips chafed.

And her presence had become toxic.Sarah’s abandonment had been hard enough of Annie. Sunita’s presence did not help her get over Sarah though. It only terrified her. It was difficult to imagine that Sunita was her biological mother and Sarah had been the adoptive one. I had to take Annie to Mysore with me on the days I was there. Neither she, nor I felt comfortable in her staying back while Sunita was around. It was wreaking havoc on her studies and well-being. Finally I had to take the hard decision. If it wasn’t possible for me throw Sunita out of the house — she was still my wife and still refused to give me a divorce without bringing Annie in between — Annie must go to someplace she was safer. I admitted her to a boarding. She was devastated, and her tears wouldn’t stop for weeks after I left her there, but I could think of no other solution.

I had steadfastly refused to let Sunita provoke me with anything. I pretended not to listen when she taunted me about Sarah. When she insisted on occupying my bedroom, I gathered my things and made myself comfortable in Sarah’s old room. There were other rooms in the house. But I took up that one only to spite Sunita. She knew whose room it was. I hadn’t let anyone touch it since Sarah had left.

Her inability to provoke me annoyed her. She couldn’t accept failure in even so petty a mission and doubled up her efforts. I don’t want to recall all the name-calling and taunting she subjected me to in those days.

And then the fire happened and it all ended abruptly.

—

Sarah

The gate was unlocked and I didn’t see anybody as I walked through the doorway. I could hear faint sounds in the kitchen and I tip-toed in. Chanda let out a startled cry at first, and then another one of – I don’t know what. Surprise? Happiness?

“Sarah! It’s you,” she ran to me and hugged me. Our relationship had always been cordial, but I wasn’t prepared for this display of affection.

“How are you?” I asked her; my Hindi had become better during my stay in Pune.

“It was wrong, oh, it was wrong. Yet, nothing has gone right since you left. Are you really back? Would you meet him?”

“Is this his dinner?” I pointed at the paltry spread on a tray. A young woman, presumably a helper for aging Chanda, was holding the tray. A bowl of soup, a little lemon rice and a cup of tea! Tea? For dinner?

Chanda understood what I was thinking. She explained, “It is so difficult to feed him anything. Even from this, half of the soup and the rice would come back, if he would eat at all. He wouldn’t use the dining table for his dinner. I would leave the tray in his room and then hope that he at least looks at it.”

“Let me take it. Where is his room?”

—

To be continued

His belief in his work and its importance was ferocious. It was difficult not to get impressed and impacted by it. We often got talking in the evenings that followed. He was in Pune for some fundraising events and was quite satisfied with the way things were going. “Monetary help is not a problem,” he told me repeatedly, “What we lack are the people who can make a difference on the ground. This is not a job for the careerists, but for the passionate.”

“I know that monetary help is not a problem for you, Amol, but I hope it still helps,” I said as I handed him a check written out for half the amount that had accrued in my allowance account.

He looked at the check and was startled. “Sarah. Naman had told me about you. Are you sure you want to give away so much?”

“It doesn’t really belong to me, Amol,” I repeated my mantra to him too, “Talking to you has given me ideas about how best to use it. My church here can also use donation for its charities. And the poor children I sometimes teach can make use of books and stationary.”

He looked at me curiously, but did not say anything. I could read neither approval, nor skepticism in his demeanor. It was strange, but Amol was strange in many ways. You had to be strange to be able to do radical things with your life as he did. So, I shook off the feeling.

Naman and Amol stayed for two weeks. Then Naman left for his business trips and Amol to a village some hundred kilometers away from Pune. His organization was working there to improve the quality of education in the government school.

But couple of days later, I was surprised to find Amol waiting in the drawing room when I came back from school.

“Hi! What a surprise.”

He bolted out of the sofa on seeing me, almost toppling the laptop he was working on.

“Sorry. I startled you.”

“No!” he shook his head rather vigorously, “I’m sorry to have come unannounced, without asking you first.”

“If you are really worried about formalities, this house is your friend’s really. It doesn’t matter how many places he makes me sign.”

“Yeah… Even he doesn’t know I am here.”

“Okay?” his strangeness started sounding eerie.

“I need your help, Sarah.”

“How can I help?”

“You have given beyond your means to my cause. Monetarily. But Sarah, in you I see a person who can give more. You have led a life of deprivation. You can understand people who suffer it like even I can’t do. You can contribute much more than your money to the cause.”

“You are asking me to join your NGO?”

“NGO is just a vehicle for what I want to achieve. I am asking you to join me.”

“How?”

“Be my partner. In work and in life.”

“Excuse me?”

“The journey I have chosen is tough, Sarah and roads abandoned and lonely. I need company and support to keep me on the right path. But it isn’t just any woman’s cup of tea, to put up with a man like me. I don’t offer romance and roses. I only offer hard work, mud roads, thorny rides, in return for a vague satisfaction of doing the right thing.”

I was unprepared for this. “You are asking me to…”

“Marry me, Sarah. Together we could do wonders.”

I stayed silent for a long minute. Then I picked up the jug and glass from the coffee table and gulped down some water before speaking.

“Amol. This is… I admire your work and I would happily join you.”

“Should I take that as a yes…”

“But it doesn’t have to depend on us marrying. I don’t mind hard work, mud roads or whatever else social work brings in one’s way. I’d happily be your companion and learn from you and give your cause my all. But I can’t marry you.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Sarah. Without marriage, a young woman and a man would always be viewed suspiciously by the common people among whom we have to work. We need to gain their trust and it can’t come without a legitimate relationship.”

“You are my brother’s friend. We are as good as brother and sister.”

“You are not my sister.”

“I can be and that’s how you can introduce me to the people.”

“That would be a deception. And a brother and sister cannot sleep together under the open sky, or in a one-room hut, which is the best we’d often have.”

“Surely people other than husband and wife work together on such causes…”

“Not a young woman and a man.”

“We can’t get married, Amol. We barely know each other. We don’t love each other.”

“Love is more than the teenage romance, Sarah. Love need not, in fact should not, be for a single person. It is for the mankind.”

“I will marry myself to the cause of mankind, then, Amol.”

“You can’t be a part of this cause with me in any other way. You wish to stay away from it, then?”

“I have told you. I would happily work for the cause, but I won’t give you my heart that you don’t care for.”

“The conditional offering won’t do, Sarah. You must offer all, if you want to tread this path.”

I admired him, I really did. But the way he had framed the entire issue left a bad taste in my mouth. Did he really believe in what he said, or did he want to gain something personal without making a personal commitment, using the shield of this bigger cause?

I didn’t want to feel bitter about him. So, I decided not to dwell on this question. I chose to believe that he was being true to himself, and I chose to disagree with him without doubting his intentions. Because my heart would not allow me to submit to him.

But he spoke before I could.

“Who are you holding back for, Sarah? The man who deceived you with a promise of marriage while he was already married?”

I was aghast. Who told him? Naman? How did he know? Did he ask his father? I hadn’t intended to be rude to him. I only wanted to refuse him politely. But this attack on Protim blew my fuse off.

“Don’t presume to know and understand everyone, Amol. You don’t know him.”

“What you need to know is that world is full of people who would take advantage of you. Probably your love has blinded you about him. But…”

I motioned him to stop talking. “Did you hear that?” I had heard someone screaming out my name in pain.

“Hear what?”

“My name?”

“Sarah! Nobody said anything…”

“It was him,” I declared  and ran outside screaming, ”I am coming!”  Could he have found me? Could he have come here?

—

To be continued

Sarah

Naman’s visit became regular. After a few days, he asked me to go out for lunch with him. I had to make a frantic trip to the market to buy something decent that I could wear to a fancy restaurant of his choosing. My bitterness for Rajesh Goenka and my determination to not be a part of his family hadn’t gone anywhere, but I was becoming fond of this brother of mine. He was clever, and worldly-wise, and yet there was a naïve humanism in him that could not fail to impress me. And he was as open a person as one could be. In a few days’ time, I knew all about his school days, his friends, his college pranks and what not. And he had managed to make me reciprocate too, although I didn’t have as many stories worth telling as he did. There were parts of my experiences in orphanage that I would never ever discuss with him, or anybody  – except probably Protim. Protim! Oh, I hadn’t been able to shake his memories off. The more I grew used to my brother’s company, the more I pined for his. Naman’s company was not a substitute for his, rather he turned out to be an appetizer that increased my hunger for Protim even more. The friendship I found in my brother made me want Protim’s love even more. I must be the epitome of human greed!

Meanwhile, I was growing curious about Naman’s continued presence in Pune. “Don’t you have to go back to Bangalore?” I finally asked him.

He fell silent.

“What is it?” I prodded.

“Sarah. I have a house here in Pune.”

“Okay?”

“I want you to have it.”

“Must you make me regret letting you into my life?”

“It’s not charity or pity. It is yours. All I have is as much yours as it is mine.”

“It is all your father’s. You aren’t at liberty to offer it to me, even if I were to accept it.”

“He regrets it, Sarah. He does. His health and mine, he thinks it is the punishment for what he did to you,” he noticed my pursed lips and hastily added, “I am not asking you to forgive him or anything. I am not asking you to accept the family…”

“Leave, Naman.”

“Please don’t, Sarah. I am sorry. Look…”

“Leave!” I screamed.

He looked exasperated, but left.

I don’t know why, but I hugged a pillow that night, imagined it to be Protim and cried out loud.

Naman came back the next day though and I was happy that he did. He did not mention the house and I did not bring up the last day’s conversation either. Our time passed pleasantly enough.

“I am leaving tonight. I will keep coming though. And I will call you, if that is fine by you,” he informed when the time to leave came.

“I’d like that.”

He kept an envelope on the chair he had just vacated. “Don’t overreact, Sarah. In fact, don’t react at all. This envelope has the address and the key to the house. Meera, the housekeeper there, knows about you. You are free to go anytime. You don’t have to. You can bury the envelope somewhere, if you hate the idea so much. But it would make me really happy if you changed your mind.”

I stiffened, but took his advice and did not react. He strode over, hugged me, planted a kiss on my cheek and then left.

My brother liked to have his way. And unlike Protim, he knew how to do it without enraging the other person. I don’t know how it came to be, but over next couple of weeks I had shifted to his house, then signed a gift deed through which he transferred its ownership to me and when I refused to tell him my bank account details, he got me to open a new account in which he transferred a monthly allowance for my use. The allowance, that I never touched, was several times my salary. But I have to admit that it was strangely empowering to know that I had all that money at my disposal.

He came back to Pune after a month and this time he was accompanied by a friend of his. Both of them stayed in the same house, but it wasn’t an inconvenience by any means. The house was big enough to accommodate a large wedding party. Even at Hojukeri, I was used to much less. And before that was no comparison at all.

I got introduced to the friend during the breakfast on the morning after they arrived. His name was Amol Kulkarni and he was a social worker. It was strange to see him with Naman, because from his appearance and dress, Amol didn’t seem to belong to the class Goenkas would frequent.  Although his manners and presentation were impeccable. Since I had to leave in time for school, I didn’t get to know him much on our first meeting, but the inconsistency I had observed was explained away on our subsequent meetings.

He belonged to a wealthy enough family, but had left his home soon after finishing college. He could not get himself absorbed in one of those high-flying careers that would have suited someone from his background and which would have pleased his family. He wanted to work at the grass-root level. “And it was not possible to genuinely connect with common people, if I continued my extravagant lifestyle,” he explained, “I had to be like them to really empathize with their problems. I don’t want to bring an outsider’s solution to people’s problems. I don’t want to bring them mere charity. Sustainable solutions can only come from within. If you want to improve the economic condition of the people, for instance, it won’t do to give them money. They have to see for themselves that education, let’s say, is the means of economic upliftment and they have to work towards it. If they have unsurmountable difficulties there, a little outside help can be of use. But if that drive is not there, nothing can help.”

“But by giving up on your wealth, you have lost a way of providing that little outside help, haven’t you?” I argued.

“True. But there are enough well-intentioned people like your brother who come forward with monetary help. The NGO I work for manages to pay me a salary so that I don’t starve. What I have gained by losing all that money is more important. I have gained the understanding of the circumstances which push people into the poverty sinkhole further and further, which makes education of the right kind inaccessible, the circumstances where the outside preaching sounds hollow, although the preaching makes complete sense to the preachers and their intentions are good.”

—

To be continued

“Look…” I struggled to recall his name. I had always referred to him as the patient and even though he had introduced himself earlier, it took me a while to recall that, “Naman, right? Naman. There is nothing you need to do for me. Treat me as a stranger who helped you because she could, and move on. You didn’t know anything about me like you yourself told me. So, just let go and let me be. I am Sarah Jacob. I never was and I never can be Niharika Goenka.”

“I am not trying to change who you are. In your place, I myself would have no interest in being a Goenka,” he gave a sad smile that managed to tug at my heart. “You have treated me like a stranger whom you helped because you could. But would it be so out of place to keep in touch with the stranger whose life you saved? Or to let him express his gratitude once in a while.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, Naman. You didn’t come here to befriend a stranger. You came here to know a sister. But that sister doesn’t exist. Just leave and let everyone be at peace.”

“Guilty as charged. I got carried away in trying to win an argument. I did come to know a sister. And I can’t shake this feeling away that the only reason I fell ill was so that I could find you again. Believe me Sarah, I had never known about you. If I had…”

He stopped talking suddenly and in a moment I knew the reason. Tears had betrayed him. He got up from the chair and went to the window. He stood there for a long while, facing away from me. The window looked over a noisy, crowded, narrow street. It wasn’t the view that kept him there, but the tears.  At last he wiped them off, rubbed his face with his hands and turned to face me.

“I’m sorry. I should leave…”

“Sit down.”

He was startled and looked at me uncertainly.

“Would you like to have some tea?” I asked ignoring his looks.

“That… that would be great.”

A corner of the same room served as my tiny kitchen, which I used to make tea. He also took two spoonful of sugar in his tea like me and we sipped it in silence for a while.

“You stay in Bangalore, don’t you?” I broke the silence.

“Yes. But I used to travel a lot for business. And I expect to start doing that again now that I am better.”

“Already handling business?”

“Dad doesn’t keep well. So, I had to start while I was still in college. You are working as a teacher, right?”

“Is your detective still following me?” I frowned.

“He won’t. Not any longer,” he assured me hastily, “I’m sorry about all this. I wish circumstances were different. ”

I let out a sigh and then resumed conversation. “Yes. I teach at a school nearby.”

He was good at making conversations. Soon, we had discovered that we shared an interest in painting. Unlike me, however, he had trained in his student days and so I assumed he would be much more accomplished than me. He had done most of his schooling outside India. But came back to Bangalore for college when his father’s health deteriorated and he needed a helping hand. He liked golfing, skiing and playing guitar, all the things I had no exposure or experience of.

Despite reminding me repeatedly of what all I had lost in life, the conversation made me feel good. I hadn’t talked much in last six months I realized and the friendly tete-a-tete had uplifted my spirits.

“Can I come again?” he asked hesitatingly while taking his leave.

“Yeah,” I replied briefly trying not to sound too eager.

“I plan to stay in Pune for a while. Can I come tomorrow afternoon, after you are back from school?”

I smiled this time, “You know my schedule.”

He looked contrite though. “Nobody will follow you any longer, I really mean it.”

“I believe you. Come tomorrow.”

—

Protim

It was the six-month anniversary of Sarah leaving me. What had my life come to that the anniversaries I remembered were of incidents like those, incidents of loss and desperate measures? How had I been in all these months? Terrible. And I would be like this forever now.

Sarah was an adult who had left of her own accord. I wasn’t a relative or anything. So, police was not going to be of any help. I drove down to Bangalore and first tried my luck at her orphanage. Nobody was of any help. An old nun mumbled something to the effect that she never expected anything good to happen to that girl. She must have gone to the devil. Then I swallowed all my pride and drove down to meet Rajesh Goekna. That man went into a fit of rage on hearing that Sarah had disappeared. What did I do to his daughter to make her run away like that? Now he would lost both his children because his son won’t get the marrow donation he so badly needed. The galls  that man showed threatening to take me to police for misleading Sarah with promises of marriage when I was already married.  I reminded him that he should be taken to police first for leaving his daughter out to die as a day-old baby and took off without waiting for more drama. She was too proud to have come to this father of hers. As much as I loved that about her, I was devastated at losing the last thread that could have led me to her. I also went ahead and hired a detective, but he didn’t have much to go by.

So, there I was. Forlorn, dead from within. Even Annie’s responsibilities did not arouse me enough. I continued with my job in Mysore, just to keep myself from going insane, leaving my daughter to Kaveri and Chanda. It wasn’t as reassuring as leaving her in Sarah’s care. But it was the best I could do. I had started wondering if she won’t do better in a boarding school, but kept postponing the decision.

Nothing changed in all those months after I had given up on looking for her. Until that day, when it was the six-month anniversary of the date that made me a friendless, scorned man again.

Chanda came running to me sometime after lunch, whatever sorry excuse for it I was having in those days. “It’s her!”

“Sarah?”

“Sunita!”

—

To be continued

Six Months Later

Sarah

It was the six-month anniversary of my leaving Hojukeri. What kind of life I must have had, you might wonder, that the anniversaries I remembered were of incidents like those, incidents of loss and desperate measures. How had I been in all these months, did you ask? Not bad. Not bad at all.

On that fateful night, I walked all six kilometers back to the bus-stop where I had first disembarked to reach Hojukeri. I got on the first bus that came there just before the dawn broke. It happened to be going to Madikeri , and not to Bangalore where I intended to go. That was fine by me, because my first priority was to get away to a place where he would not be able to find me easily. It was better to catch a bus to Bangalore from Madikeri anyway. I was more likely to get a seat. A pain shot through my heart as I thought of that. He was the one who had suggested that to me once. It couldn’t have been too long ago. But it looked like a lifetime away now.

I had about four thousand rupees with me. I had to find a way of getting as far away from Hojukeri and Bangalore as I could and start earning my livelihood before I ran out of that money. I managed that by buying the cheapest bus tickets available from Madikeri to Bangalore and then from Bangalore to Pune. Going to Pune was not premeditated. That just happened to be the furthest destination to which I could immediately find an affordable bus from Bangalore. When I reached Pune I was down to one thousand and five hundred rupees in my possession. I asked the way to the nearest church and sat in the nearly-empty pew a long time. Then I got talking to a sister there, introduced myself and told her about my need to find a roof over my head and job to pay for it. It was quite a task to convey all this in a convincing manner without revealing anything about what made me leave Hojukeri, but I managed it. She directed me to a nearby hotel which had cheap, livable rooms. She also told me about a local classified paper which should have advertisements for job openings.

Without getting into more details, let me just tell you that I found a position as an English teacher in a Marathi-medium school and also managed to rent a small, rundown room to stay in. Life wasn’t luxurious, but I wasn’t starving any longer. I spent my free time volunteering with church and teaching poor children. Once I had settled in Pune, I got in touch with the employee and gave him my new contact number. He was to contact me only for the marrow donation. He agreed to that and kept his word. About a month later, he called me for the donation. I went to Bangalore, went through a simple procedure and then came back. Rajesh Goenka accosted me again. He wanted me to come back to the family. I reminded him again that I had no family, and that I was an orphan. I told them not to trouble Mr. Roychowdhury about me as I no longer worked for or stayed with him. For good measure I also told him that he should not try to find or contact me or I will go to police.

The threat must have worked, or once his son’s life was saved he no longer cared; either way, I wasn’t troubled by anyone from Goenka family again.

Until that day, when it was the six-month anniversary of the date that made me a friendless, orphan again.

—

The young man at the door was nobody I knew.

“Sarah?” he asked tentatively. His pronunciation of my name was perfect, but his voice revealed what his face didn’t. It was too much like his father.

“Who are you?” I asked, although I already knew.

“My name is Naman. Can I come in?”

“I don’t think I know you. So, no!” I made to shut the door.

“Sarah. Please. I owe my life to you. Trust me I can do you no harm.”

“What do you want?”

“I just want to know my sister.”

I took a good look at him. He was begging. But his demeanor was graceful. He looked not arrogant, but determined. His illness had left its effect on his physique, making him too lean for his frame, but he still made his presence felt. Not for the first time in my life, I felt small before someone who should have been an equal. We shared a womb for nine months. But since then he had received the grooming, education and opportunities that I could not even dream of. I was luckier than most abandoned infants; Home of Hope was probably the best that could have happened to someone without a family. But it was nothing compared to what my twin brother had. I felt bitter yet again.

Still I stepped aside and let him in. I can’t quite fathom why I did that. Was it his aristocratic manner, so unlike his father’s? Or was I so lonely that the intimacy and company – and even gratitude because I had saved his life – that a twin brother promised was difficult to turn away from?

I was uncomfortably conscious of how dingy my room looked from the moment he stepped in. But I did not show it. I had two plastic chairs in the room and I motioned him to sit on one. He accepted the water I offered him and drank it in one go. Despite his calm exterior, he was nervous!

“I don’t know where to begin…”

“You didn’t need to come here,” I cut in sharply. Oh the joys of acting nasty!

“I needed to. Not for your sake, but for mine.”

“How can I help you?”

He stayed silent for a long moment, rolling the empty glass in his hand before putting it down. “By letting me in,” he spoke at last, “In your life, I mean.”

“Why would you want that?”

“You have every right to be angry, Sarah.”

“I have no right to be angry with strangers.”

“Trust me, I didn’t know who the donor was until I had already recovered. When I found out…”

“Yes. How did you find me at all? I had strictly asked…”

“Thakur Uncle didn’t betray you,” he defended the employee, “I indulged in spying, even on him and his phone records. He never gave them to me. And despite having your number, I don’t think he has figured out which city you are in, much less where exactly you stay.”

“Then how did you find out?”

“I hired a detective. With the phone number, it was easy for him.”

—

To be continued

On rummaging through the drawer, I first found her mobile, then her bank passbook and debit card. The bank account was opened when she came to work here. This was the account to which I transferred her salary. So, this was where any money she had to call her own resided. With card as well as passbook left behind, how was she going to manage? I grew frantic with worry. Getting her back was not my immediate concern now. The first thing I wanted to be assured of was that she wasn’t wandering around without any support or money. Could she have taken out the money in cash? How could I be sure? If only I could see her account statement… May be if I spoke to the manager. But why would he help me? Finally her neglected drawer helped me there. The two letters, one with her Internet banking username and the other with the password, were also in the drawer. I hoped she hadn’t changed the password and rushed to my bedroom with the letters. I locked myself in the room. I fumbled with typing and almost lost access by making too many attempts with wrong password. But in the last allowed attempt, I managed to log in. My heart sank on seeing her transaction history. After her first salary, she had withdrawn five thousand rupees and nothing since then.  How much of it would she still have on her? Even if she didn’t spend anything during her stay here, which was likely – her needs were so limited – she had visited Bangalore to see Father Jacob.  Bus tickets and other expenses there, she couldn’t have more than three thousand on her now.

Oh Sarah! My stubborn, little angel. You could at least have taken the money that was your own. Where are you now? How do I find you? How will you manage? I buried my face in my hands and sobbed hard.

“Daddy!” Annie was knocking at the door.

“Wait,” I washed my face before opening the door for her, “You had your breakfast?”

“Has Sarah Auntie left, Daddy?”

“Why do you ask?”

“She came to my room last night.”

“She did? What did she say?”

“She kissed me and said that I should be a good girl and make you proud.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“She didn’t say anything else. Did I do something wrong, Daddy? Did she leave because of me?”

“No. No sweetheart. It’s… It’s not your fault.”

“Was she angry with you?”

“Yes.”

“Will you bring her back, Daddy?”

“Come here,” I kneeled so that our eyes were level, “I don’t know if I can bring her back, Annie. And yes – it is because she was angry with me that she left. But I promise you I will try my best. Are you mad at me?”

“No Daddy. I love you.”

—

I readied Annie for school and sent her with Kaveri. Then I went back to Sarah’s room. There was a note on the table that had escaped my attention the first time.

“You shouldn’t ask me to forgive you,” the note said, “I am not the one who has to forgive. I was a part of the sin. When I look inside my soul, really look, I see its corruption. I was hoping that the situation would be as it suited me, instead of finding out for myself. I ask for God’s forgiveness. For me as well as for you. If you want to do anything for me, please try to find peace. I don’t have to say this, but still. Please don’t make it more difficult by looking for me.”

“Sarah!” Assured of Annie being away at school, there was nothing to stop me from crying out loud. I sobbed hard and loud until my throat grew so dry that not a sound could escape it, and my body so dehydrated that it could not produce the tears it needed to keep up with my pain.

The incessant knock finally forced me to get up.  It was Chanda at the door. I was, anyway, I too exhausted to scold someone for disturbing me so. With her I didn’t have the moral authority to do so. If someone in the world could play the “I-told-you-so” card for most genuine reasons, it was her.

“Annie will return from school in couple of hours. She would look for you,” she announced, pretending not to take any notice of my swollen, haggard face. “Lunch is ready. You haven’t had any breakfast. So, I am bringing it to your bedroom.”

“Did you know, Chanda, that she was leaving? Did she tell you? Did you see her go?”

“No,” she replied calmly, “I didn’t. As much as I want to see you happy, Protim, I respect her for her decision.”

“At least that much good has come out it. Nobody can doubt her moral uprightness, nor blame her for being a gold-digger,” I felt bitter despite myself. Damn you, Sarah! Why was love not enough? Why did you not talk to me face to face? Why did you not question me? Why did you not let me question you? Why are religion and morality hard only on good and innocent people, while the real sinners and culprits roam free and happy? I would have liked to see you squirm and admit your defeat as you failed to answer this for me.

“Yes,” Chanda replied curtly and left. She believed that I deserved what was happening to me. May be I did. But even if I was the sinner, wasn’t all this unfair to Sarah too? With me she could have had a happy, content life she deserved. And what about Annie? Hadn’t she loved Sarah more than her own mother? Did she not deserve to be loved? Why must she have a selfish wench for her biological mother and a too-upright-for-her-own-good as the surrogate one she adopted?

And why had her God allowed her to leave with not even five thousand rupees in her hand. What did she plan to do? Where did she plan to go? And that’s when the possibility hit me. She did have somewhere to go now.

—

To be continued

Breath caught in my throat as I heard that. I could not keep my eyes fixed on the table and looked up at him. His pain and distress was plain to see.

“I don’t know if she was right. I never ordered the DNA test. I didn’t ask for divorce again. But the confrontation freed her from any need to even pretend. Everyone soon knew me for a cuckold. You have not known this high society, Sarah. You have no idea how vitriolic it could be. I had given up on my happiness. But I was worried about Anaya. It would affect her as she grew up. Then one day, about a year back, a solution presented itself. Sunita left of her own accord. Just a note that she was leaving and that I should not look for her. You can’t imagine my relief at that. I had no intention of looking for her. I just let her parents know so that I would not get into trouble, wrapped up my life at Bangalore, bought this plantation and settled down here. Ananya was not used to her mother being around anyway. She didn’t ask about her for long. I was no longer thinking about divorce, marring again or any of it. I just let things be. Anaya’s welfare was still at the top of my mind and that’s why I wanted someone… You know the rest of it.

“I was mad in love, Sarah. I should never have kept all of this from you. I would have needed to wait a year or two before I could apply for divorce on the grounds of desertion.

“No!” I snapped, in as loud a voice, as my starved body allowed.

“Sarah, please! I know you think divorce is a sin. But… But can’t you see the situation? Do I have no right to be happy? Must the villains win and innocent suffer to prove their faith?”

“I need to eat and sleep,” Tortured though he was, he did not insist on carrying on the conversation when he heard that. He ran to the kitchen himself, and brought back some rice and vegetables, hastily arranged on a plate.  Eating was difficult. I alternately felt like crying and throwing up. But I kept at it. I was going to need my strength for what I must do next. It won’t do to make decisions with a hungry body and feverish mind.

He escorted me back to my room. “Sleep well and don’t worry about anything, Sarah. Please give me one more chance and I promise I will set it all right. If you want to stay elsewhere until then, I promise I will arrange for that. I…”

“You need to sleep as well. Please go back to your room and don’t wait for me here. Please?”

“Whatever you say.”

He wanted to kiss me, but I turned away before he could act. I knew what an exercise in self-control it must have been for him to not grab me, pull me to him and attack my lips. But he exercised that control.  As I turned to close the door, I took one long look at him. It would stay imprinted in my heart forever.

—

I was angry at him, mad angry. He knew what principles I abided by. He knew them very well; he had made me to say them out loud several times with his annoying, pushy ways. Then he deliberately deceived me, never letting on how marrying him would make me a sinner in God’s and my own eyes.

But try as I might my anger did not result in loathing. My love, and now even pity – because he had suffered and no one could deny that – were the triumphant emotions. Staying on was easy to justify. Must the villains win and innocent suffer, he had asked in that forceful, convincing manner of his.

But I had to go away. If the notions of right and wrong were mutable to suit our personal situations, their entire point was gone.  To be good, we had to do the right thing even when it was most painful for us.  To keep revising the definitions of right and wrong for the sake of our comforts was a manifestation of our weakness, our aversion to the sufferings we must accept.

I would have liked to make him understand this before leaving. But I knew my limitations. I wasn’t going to succeed with him in an argument that would challenge his passion. So, painful as it was to me, even more painful as it would be to him when he found out, I must slip away before dawn, before he could do anything to make me stay. He will be devastated, but he must seek his peace with God. There were wrongs that we mere humans could not set right. We neither had the right, nor the ability to do so.

—

Protim

I had not had a wink of sleep, but I stayed in my room until dawn, to honor her wishes. I wished she would fight with me, admonish me for leading her astray, even claim to hate me. Any of that would have been better than the ominous silence she had treated me with. Any of that would be revealed a little bit more about what was going on in her head than artificially composed demeanor. It didn’t help that her yes showed nothing but love and pity. And yet, she seemed to have built this impregnable wall around her.

At the first sign of morning light, I camped up at her door again. All was still. She must have been exhausted. I decided to let her sleep as long as she needed to. I paced up and down the corridor near her door, driving myself insane by trying to practice all possible ways in which I would ask for her forgiveness and beg her to give me a chance to set this right.

“Daddy!” Ananya appearing there brought me out of my trance.

“Annie! What happened?”

“Aren’t you and Sarah Auntie coming for breakfast?”

“What time is it?” I suddenly looked around and realized the sun was well up in the sky. I must have been pacing for three or four hours.

“I am hungry.”

“Ask Kaveri Auntie to feed you, Annie. I will be eat a little later.”

“Where is Sarah Auntie?”

“Sleeping. Why?”

“She doesn’t sleep in this late.”

“She was tired, Annie. You have your breakfast now. Go.”

But I was as alarmed as Annie on realizing just how late it was. After Annie disappeared out of my sight, I gently pushed the door. It was unlocked. Sarah often left it unlocked, so that part didn’t really worry me. However, as soon as I entered the room, I could see that the bed was not slept in. The bathroom door was ajar and there was no one in there. I threw open her cupboard. All her clothes – no – everything I had ever bought her was lying there. But not the dresses she had come here with. I took a desperate look around the room.

She was gone!

Sarah

“Not widowed or divorced.” Those had been his exact words about Protim. If half of it was true, why wouldn’t the other half be? He wasn’t divorced either. And so what if he had been? I couldn’t have sown the seeds of my married life on someone else’s divorced one.

‘It is your fault, you never bothered to ask him,’ the part of my heart that was dying to find an excuse for him complained.

‘That wouldn’t change the fact that you would be a sinner if you stayed with him,’ the other part said.

‘He could get a divorce even now,’ screamed the first.

‘Even worse, if you cause a divorce.’

The war of words continued, as I sat on the edge of my bed and the evening wore on. Some time well after midnight, the debate ended and the cruel, upright part won. I had no other option. I had to go away from him.

But I knew him for the passionate man he was. He would never let me go. I would have to lie to him and slip away. Still, better lie than sin.

I also felt faint by then. I hadn’t eaten anything since morning, and had not had a drop of water since I had come back late in the afternoon. I needed water. My head spinned as I got out of bed and opened the door. I let out a startled cry, when I realized that I was about to step on him. He was sitting sprawled on the floor, right outside my door.

—

Protim

I jumped to my feet as soon as I saw her. I must have drifted off into a fitful sleep, because I didn’t hear the door open.

“Sarah!”

“I need water.”

“Yes. Yes. And something to eat too. Let me take you to…” I made to take her arms.

“I can manage, Sir.” Sir? She had slipped back into her old ways. Had she given up on me already? Would she not even give me a chance to explain?

I let her walk ahead and followed her to the kitchen. She drew a glass of water from a pot and drank two glasses of it. Then she straggled over to the dining table and slumped on a chair.

“I do not deserve this, Sarah, but I still appeal to your kindness. You would hear me out, won’t you?”

She did not lift her exhausted eyes to me, but still nodded.

“Sunita – that’s her name. How odd that both your names should start with the same alphabet, because she was nothing like you. ”

Sarah

‘Probably Sarah is not my name,’ I thought to myself, ‘Probably Niharika is. Probably I wasn’t meant to be Sarah Jacob. Probably I wasn’t meant to tutor his daughter. Probably I wasn’t meant to meet him. It all went wrong in my life, from day one.’

“We met through, not surprisingly, our families. I was already thirty. Getting too old, my family pronounced, it was time to settle down. I gave in. Most of my friends were married, had kids; my life was getting lonelier and the days of youth when the idea of marrying and settling down looked laughable were over. My parents thought she would be the right daughter-in-law. I was supposed to decide in a couple of brief meetings, and I didn’t find anything objectionable in those, when we were usually seated within few meters of hordes of family members.  She was beautiful. I sometimes did wonder how she agreed to marry me. But then just congratulated myself on my good fortune. Probably I had made up in my intellect and personality, what I didn’t quite have in my looks.

“I was ecstatic and it lasted a few years. Then things changed. She was sullen and unhappy. We’d get into fight over practically nothing. It happens in all marriages, I was told. Have a baby, and you would be too busy to fight. I talked to her, almost begged her. She kept refusing, but one fine day she told me that she was pregnant. She looked happy enough about it and I was over the moon. Ananya was born, she had taken the looks of her mother and I was not complaining about it.

“But then things did not get better; in fact they started deteriorating even further, and now it worried me more because not only my happiness, but my daughter’s welfare was also at stake. Sunita hadn’t shown any interest in taking up a job or even voluntary work, when I had suggested it earlier, hoping it would keep her busy and happy. But now she would be away from home for hours, leaving Ananya to the aayah and servants. She would go ballistic if I as much as I tried to understand where she was going.  I cut down my teaching hours at the university to spend more time at home. While this helped me bond with Ananya, it did not help my relationship with Sunita. It brought home the realities that I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Drinking, drugs, gambling, adultery – what all should I tell you about, Sarah? It wasn’t a pretty picture.  Confrontation did not improve the situation. I was no good for her; she had married me under pressure from her parents, but she did not intend to let it stop her from enjoying her life. I was heartbroken – yes. But I was also old enough by then to see myself for the fool I had been. I had been living in a fantasy, romantic world of my own, while the real life, right under my nose, was taking its own course.

“I asked her for divorce, but she would not hear of it. If she divorced me, her parents won’t like it and she would not get any part of their money if they decided to disown her. Charade must be kept up. There was only so much I could take. How selfish could she be! I told her that I would drag her to the court for a divorce, and that I should have no problem in finding proofs of her adultery.

“You should have heard her laugh then, Sarah. I can see how sickening the tale is for you. You are too innocent for all this. I am sorry for bringing this upon you. But it’s too late to go back. Today you must hear. She laughed and told me that I did not need to go outside to find proof of her adultery. It was right in my home. She pointed and Anaya and sniggered, ‘All you have to do is order a DNA test. But remember, if you make adultery a ground for divorce, dear Daddy, she will have to be handed over to Mommy. She isn’t yours. Do you think you could have made a pretty creature like her?’

—

To be continued

Sarah

I was accosted by a large pot-bellied man as soon as I came out of the lab after going through general health checkup and giving a cheek swab.

“Saaraa?” he had a funny way of pronouncing my name, but I checked the urge to correct him.

“Yes?”

“Niharika. Your mother had wanted to name you Niharika.” His English was labored; he was obviously more comfortable in Hindi or Marwari.

Almost simultaneously I spotted the employee standing obeisantly at some distance. The man talking to me needed no introduction now.

“I have no father or mother; I am an orphan, Sir,” I didn’t stay to observe his reaction and walked to the employee instead, “If it matches, you can call me at the same landline number, when the time for donation comes. I should not be contacted otherwise.”

“God willing, it will definitely match, child.”

“I am not your child. My name is Sarah Jacob. Have a good day, Sir.”

“Let me arrange to have you dropped back.”

“My taxi is waiting.”

God forgive me for being vengeful, but it felt good. Oh yes – it felt good, to be able to dismiss these people without so much as a glance back.

“Saaraa wait,” the large man moved with surprising swiftness and stood tall before me, “Your work for Protim Roychowdhury?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

“None of your business.”

“Listen to me child. I am guilty of a lot of abominable acts, but I still can’t let you knowingly fall into a pit. That man is already married.”

“I know. I tutor his daughter.”

“And not widowed or divorced.”

“Thank you, for proving a second time in my life, just how disgusting you are. Stay away from me, or I will call for security.”

My rebuke to him hadn’t wanted for strength, but if he had intended spoil my enthusiasm about my upcoming wedding, he had succeeded in that. How odd it was that I had never talked to Protim about his first wife. I had just assumed that she was dead. Could it be otherwise? No! He wouldn’t do that to me. Oh God! If only I could fly into his arms right away and have all these aspersion blows away. But I must suffer several hours of road journey before that could happen. I couldn’t possibly discuss this on mobile he had so solicitously pushed in my hand as I was leaving.

—

Protim

It wasn’t her love or fidelity that I distrusted. How could I distrust that faithful, devoted creature? The weakness was in me. The darkness was in me. The horrible secret was mine. I had dismissed Chanda’s apprehensions, but that didn’t make them less potent. When it was too late, I knew that my impatience was my undoing. If only I had been willing to wait, and at least made myself legally eligible, she would have come around her religious convictions. But I wanted her. Not a few years later, but then. Love is not only blind, but foolish too. And when passion gets the upper hand in all the feelings that make love, foolishness starts bordering on dementia. I was demented. Oh! Who in their right mind would not have seen that?

But I wasn’t thinking of all this when I saw her back at my house. My only feeling was of relief and exuberance. She was back, yet again. She would be mine, forever. The wedding was in a week…

She willingly came into my arms, when I reached out for her. But there was a hesitation in her bearing.

“What’s wrong?” I had to ask.

“It’s silly, really,” she looked contrite. What for?

“Talk to me.”

“Yes. That’s what it is. I just need to hear it from you and then the notion would not even cross my head ever again. Ananya’s mother… Strange that we never talked about her. But she is dead, right? What was her name?”

Have you ever been dunked into a water tank without warning and kept in it until all the air has been let out of your stomach? If you have been, you would understand just what I was going through behind my stunned silence and blanched face.

Her face grew into a mirror of my own, when she realized that I hadn’t replied promptly and settled the matter for her. It was not good news, and she knew it.

I hadn’t been particularly nice and straightforward with her through the time I had known and courted her. I had laughed at her, had ridiculed her and had manipulated her. I had made her suffer through Debjani’s presence in my house, I had let her feel insulted, slighted and ignored. I had driven her to tears, all in my attempt to secure a place for me in her heart. When she was away visiting Father Jacob, I had promised myself that I would never torture her so and just beg her to accept my feelings. And yet, when she had come back, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from pushing her to the extreme, I had played with her feelings until she had been pushed in a corner and had to confess it all. It had worked out fine for me; I had her words before I opened my heart to her. But how she had suffered!  I ill-used her to get her. And yet now, when a little manipulation, a little lie could preserve her happiness, I could not get myself to say it. The trust in her voice, the devotion in her eyes, they didn’t let me lie and my tongue stayed stuck to the roof of my mouth. And through that cavernous silence of mine, the truth was revealed to her.

“She. Is. Alive. Your. Wife. Is. Alive.” She uttered each word slowly and distinctly as if she was unsure she would say them right.

—

To be continued