Just You, Me and a Secret

by Ganga Bharani Vasudevan

  ‘Come let’s go to yours.’

  ‘Why not in your room?’ I asked, Lakshmi amma who brought milk in a tray stopped by.

  ‘Amma, when has Santhosh thambhi let anyone into his room? I think he is secretly petting a tiger or lion inside.’ She said as she gestured me to pick the glass of milk.

  ‘No Lakshmi amma. I just want some privacy. I live in my own world, the world no one knows. And yes there are lions and tigers inside so don’t you dare break it open even to clean it. You can expect a strong stench to travel out of the key hole anytime.’ He said as he dropped the key inside his track pants’ pocket. He picked the remaining glass of milk and sent Lakshmi back. He put the free arm around my shoulders and pushed me to my room. We were alone in my room again and the glasses were empty by the time we reached there.

  ‘Tell me about your…’ I swallowed the rest of the sentence.

  ‘Love story.’ He mouthed what I had swallowed.

  ‘Ya.’ I ended in brief.

  ‘Yes Meera. It’s time to tell you everything. I had been dying to tell you everything for a long time.’ He said and pulled the bean bag near the bed I was sitting on. He started with his story.

  ~

  ‘It was last year, January, when I first met my angel; she was a true angel. You know how unattached I am to art forms and how irrelevant classical dance seems to me. It was all an accident. She was a dancer, an excellent Bharathanatyam dancer. She was so beautiful. I saw her performance on stage in an inter college event; I was lost in her beauty the first time I saw those legs dance and her lips sync lyrics to the song that was sung. The dance show was staged in a temple like set up with sculptures all around her and I felt like one of those sculptures had come to life in front of my eyes. She drove me crazy to know more about her, with that smile of hers; beautiful, most beautiful smile. But it was not just her looks, Meera, she was a true angel. I read about her in an interview that was published in her college magazine with the title ‘A role model amidst us’. She was raised in an orphanage. She excelled in everything she did - dance, academics, music, painting, sports and what not. Her dream, her ambition and purpose of existence was to set up a home called ‘OOHome’ which was a blend of old age homes and orphanages.

  “Being brought up in orphanage, I definitely wouldn’t say we were deprived of love and care. We loved each other and we had the management to care for us. But we missed a family. We all longed to call someone mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, aunt, uncle and I can go on endlessly on that list. When we were kids we used to play games where we dress up like elders wrapped in sarees and full pants, took turns and called each other with a name of a relationship - brother, sister, mom and dad. We had people to give us money, clothes and even education, but we needed a family. As I grew up, I involved myself in certain duties towards the society and learnt about how old parents were thrown out by their own children. They needed a family and we needed the same. So I will toil hard to raise funds for ‘OOHomes’ to be set up where each child of God is grouped to a parent and they live as a family. Each family will be given a room in OOHomes. Every neighbor will become uncle, aunt, cousins and grandparents.”

  The article was so inspiring. Every single detail I collected about her impressed me more. I loved her aspirations. I had fallen for her, already. As you know, I like social service and she called it her duty. For being thrown into an orphanage, she should have hated the society, but she did not. I could relate to how she longed to call someone mom and dad. I could relate to how she missed a normal family. I wanted to be her family and support her in building her dream home. I did not talk to her directly. I knew she would get hurt if she even got a hint that I was not supporting her vision but her beauty. And I was certainly not trying to help her for how she looked but only for who she was. I didn’t want her to think that I was using her dream as a weapon to hook her. You know well that I had an inclination towards literature. I started writing a book and she was my inspiration. I cooked up a story with her as the main character. I did not want her to know who I was till she fell for me naturally, uncompelled. I used a pen name to publish my book. I had myself as a character in the book and it was the real story- me being the writer who wanted to help her in building ‘OOHomes’. I also had left a clue for her to figure out how much I loved her. I was waiting for the book to be published and I stayed backstage, no one knew who I was. I sent her the book with an email id I had created just to talk to her. It also had a note personally written stating that she wasn’t compelled to reply. I badly wanted to know what she felt about the book. I used to check my mail every five minutes for her reply but I did not receive any for a week. I did not lose hope. I started with my second book and my journey as a writer started for her and only for her. It was the next Monday morning, I checked my mail and she had written back to me. It did not have any shades of love. But it just read ‘Thanks for joining hands in my journey, sorry our journey.’ I loved the way she included me as a part of her journey, as a part of her life. That moment, I realized that we were made for each other.

  We started chatting about books, about our likes and dislikes. She said that she understood the game I had started in the book; the game of fate; the game of not meeting each other till we felt we had to. The only twist was that she did not say anything till we fell in love but I was sure she would soon understand the depth of my love. Days passed and we shared a lot more; we were ready to share our lives already. I knew she liked me the same way I liked her.

  I had ended the book with a scene where the dancer girl meets the writer guy in his next author signing program. So whenever I asked to meet her she used to say that she wanted our first meet to be just like how I had described in the book.

  I badly wanted to meet her. I know how she looked but she did not know how I did. She did not want to know that. But I couldn’t resist anymore, I planned to go to Chennai to attend her dance program breaking all the pacts I had had with her. I wanted to look at those soft feet drawing wonders on the floor, those beautiful lips smiling and those hands moving in unison. I wanted to experience those few moments of bliss. She had back to back stage shows lined up in various cities. She had one show, the last one for the season in Chennai that day. She was returning from Mumbai in the morning of that dark day which I wish, had never dawned. The day that sucked out life from me.’

  ~

  19: Deepthi’s Dead

  He started crying sorrowfully. I wasn’t able to control him. I was already feeling too disturbed. I did not know how I felt. Some strong confusion rose inside, anew. He suddenly lifted my hand and dragged me to his room. I was not feeling like myself, I felt like the moment I had opened my eyes first. I was not sure about what was happening. He unlocked the door and shut the two of us inside his room. His room had huge framed photos of a female all over the wall in different dance postures.

  ‘Look how beautiful my Deepthi is Meera. She was there at the airport that day, the same day when the fire accident had happened.’ He said as he caressed the photos.

  I could not concentrate much on the story he was telling me. I was too disturbed myself. I closed my eyes and concentrated on what was happening inside me. I saw the smoke and fire clearing out. Then there was nothing but darkness.

  ‘She is dead, Meera. Deepthi is...no more’ the last two words came from inside his heart tearing it into pieces. The pain his heart was undergoing inside him was seen on his face. I was shocked, not for what he said, but for how I felt.

  ‘Deepthi..’ he was crying hard looking at the photos.

  I went around, looked at every photo and every pair of eyes in those frames disturbed me, spoke to me. I couldn’t bear the headache that hard thinking gave me. I ran to my room leaving San alone in his room. I lay on my bed with wide eyes, fearing to shut them out of light. Darkness was something I suddenly hated and darkness made me think hard; I hated that. When I thought too hard I saw fire and smoke; I hated that too. Though the fire was just in my thoughts it burnt me dow
n every time the incident flashed within me. I did not know how and when I had fallen asleep.

  Pitch dark. Extreme Silence. Time had ceased to exist.

  ‘Deepthi’

  ‘Deepthi’

  ‘Deepthi’

  I said to myself and opened my eyes. I ran to the room where I had seen those pictures that disturbed me so much and knocked the door as hard and as frequently as I could. He opened the door and tried to shut it behind him. I forced myself into his room. He immediately came into the room and locked it behind. I went around and touched the face that was imprinted in the photos. I touched my face and felt it. I felt the photo and my own skin alternatively.

  ‘What happened, Meera?’ he asked. But I ignored him. Thoughts flooded and I couldn’t hear anything else beyond my heart beat.

  I looked at the face and still it seemed to be very familiar; a face of someone who was very close to me.

  I accidentally came across my own reflection in the mirror, pinned to the wall, amidst the photos. I looked at the photo and then at the mirror image. A few minutes passed with Santhosh pleading to know what was wrong.

  ‘Who is this?’ I asked.

  ‘Deepthi. My love.’ He cried.

  ‘No. Who is this?’ I showed the mirror.

  ‘What happened, Meera?’ he asked.

  ‘Meera?’

  He did not say anything but looked at me with a look of panic.

  ‘Who the hell is this?’ I shouted. My brain was ready to burst any minute.

  ‘Meera..’ He sounded concerned.

  ‘Who is Meera?’ I asked. I did not understand who he was referring to. I did not understand who I saw in the mirror.

  ‘You are Meera.’ He said holding me by my biceps with his two arms.

  ‘No. No. No.’ I yelled at him pushing him away.

  ‘This is me. I am Deepthi.’ I said crying and sinking my knees on the floor. I did not know who I saw in the mirror.

  ‘Meera, this is Deepthi and she is….dead.’ he broke when he tried to explain it to me.

  ‘No. Don’t say I am dead. I am right in front of you. I am Deepthi. See here.’ I made the dance postures that were imprinted in the photos. I bent my knees a little, placed my hands on my hip and replicated the expression in one of those pictures. Then I did the posture that was captured in another picture. I did exactly like those picture one after the other at a great speed.

  ‘See. I am Deepthi. See the photos and see me. I am Deepthi. Believe me, I am Deepthi.’ I cried. I continued replicating the postures in photos.

  Santhosh sat down with his hands on his head, watching me with a terrified expression all over his face.

  Few seconds of silence ticked.

  ‘Blank paper.’ he said all of a sudden.

  ‘What?’ I asked stopping my posture replication to make him believe that I was Deepthi.

  ‘Yes. Yes. Yes…’ He paused. ‘Ashruth told me that you are now like a white paper. What impresses you first, what affects you deep enough will get imprinted in it...Ya…ya… That’s why he asked us not to visit you till you were treated by him for a few days, till he considers you ready to face it all. Uncle pleaded to meet you during the treatment but Ashruth said it would strain your brain and lead you to coma again. I am an idiot. I have spoilt the treatment Ashruth had given you so long. I don’t deserve to live at all.’ He paused.

  ‘I shouldn’t have told my story to you, Meera.’ He said, his voice shaking terribly.

  ‘Don’t call me that. I am not Meera. I am Deepthi. Please trust me.’ I cried sitting down on the floor.

  He sat next to me and wiped my tears. ‘Okay. Listen. We will solve this. Ashruth can solve it. He had already told me that if something like this happens I need to immediately take you to his place. Come let’s leave right now.’

  I wanted to prove I was right. I was too confused to think about anything. I did not know who I really was. I was not sure where I was. I did not understand what this man in front of me had to do with me. I did not even realize who he was.

  ‘Uncle and aunt?’ he asked.

  ‘Who uncle? Who aunt? First of all tell me who you are and why I am here with you.’ I said as I pressed my fingers on my forehead. My head started hurting badly.

  ‘Meera, what have I done to you?!’ he cried hugging me tightly. I pushed the stranger away.

  ‘Okay we will tell uncle later. Uncle is now only a little happy that you recovered well. I am sure Ashruth will cure you. I will tell them when we reach Chennai. They won’t search for us till morning.’ He said to himself or to me, I was not bothered to whom he spoke.

  I refused to go with him. I demanded that he let me go from there. But he begged me to listen to him. ‘Please trust me Meera.’ Before he could complete I burst out of anger ‘Deepthi. You first trust me.’

  ‘Ok Deepthi.’ His cry intensified when he uttered my name for no reasons. ‘Trust me. I will not harm you. I will take you to a doctor’s place.’ He begged.

  ‘I am completely alright. Why should I meet the doctor?’ He made no sense to me.

  ‘No Meer… ok Deepthi. You are under treatment after the accident. I am taking you back to the hospital.’ He said.

  ‘So you are someone like a nurse to take care of me? Am I here for a treatment?’

  ‘Yes. Yes. Please come with me and I am sure I won’t harm you.’ He rushed me out of the house.

  On our way to somewhere, he made calls to someone, probably his friend, asking to book two tickets in the only late night flight to Chennai.

  On our way to Chennai in the flight, he tried to tell me about someone named Meera, someone I couldn’t relate to.

  ‘Prabhu and Nadhiya are your parents.’ He said.

  ‘I am not Meera. Please understand.’ I was irritated that I was not believed even after telling it so many times.

  ‘Okay. Okay. Relax. They are Meera’s parents. I am Santhosh, Meera’s cousin.’ He said.

  ‘What are we doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘I am your friend. I am here to help you. Trust me. I am here to help you.’ He said as the air hostess served us water.

  We ignored her and continued. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To meet Ashruth, a doctor.’

  ‘Why are we meeting a doctor now?’ I asked.

  ‘We need to meet him for regular check up. Your mind is so unstable. We are on continuous sessions to make your mind stable enough to lead a normal life.’ He said.

  I was convinced a little. I did not want to completely trust a stranger but I had no other option left. I was too weak, both mentally and physically, to rebel against him. I was in a state where I couldn’t think of anything; if he was a good guy, if what he said was true or not.

  ‘Can I sleep now?’ I asked.

  ‘Sure.’ He said and switched off the reading light above my head.

  When I woke up, we had just landed. We took a cab to Ashruth’s place. It was 6 am in the morning. Santhosh called his aunt Nadhiya.

  ‘Meera suddenly fell sick.’ He said to the phone.

  ‘Deepthi. I am Deepthi.’ I said.

  ‘Ya ya. Deepthi.’ He said to me and the pain was visible in his eyes. I thought he must be in some sort of trouble. He went back to the phone.

  ‘She needed to be taken to Ashruth immediately and I started without telling you. I did not want uncle to see the state she was in. But, aunt, there is nothing to worry. We reached Chennai. See to it that uncle doesn’t know about any of this. Just tell him she pestered me to meet Ashruth and I have brought her here casually. Aunt, don’t worry I am here with her.’ He spoke at a stretch. I doubted if the lady at the other end spoke anything.

  The cab went into a hospital and halted in front of a flat. Santhosh paid the cab driver and the cab went away. It was still a little dark. We went up in the elevator. A few floors up and we were at the door steps of someone; I assumed it to be the doctor guy’s. Santhosh pressed the bell but there was no power. The bell did not ring; we could
make that out. We knocked the door and waited for a long time but there was no response from inside.

  ‘Come with me.’ He took me inside the big hospital.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

  ‘To prove something to you. To make things clear to you.’ He said without even reducing the pace at which he was walking.

  He stopped at a desk and said ‘I am Ashruth’s relative. We would like to meet Ashruth.’

  ‘no…’ I started but he said in my ears ‘We are just faking to get a record.’

  I whispered “Okay!”

  ‘Sorry sir. He is in the operation theatre and can’t be disturbed now. How can I help you?’ the lady at the desk asked with a smile spread on her face.

  ‘When can we expect him?’ he asked.

  ‘It might take a long time. The operation just started.’ She said with a monotone.

  ‘Oh god!’

  ‘How else can I help you sir?’ she was busy attending calls and her question made it clear that she wanted us to let her do her work.

  ‘Listen. This is Meera, Ashruth’s fiance’.

  ‘I know Meera madam. How can I help you sir?’ she spoke as though her speech was programmed.

  ‘I am not Mee…’ he stamped my leg sending me a signal that I need to fake as Meera to get the work done. I wanted to play along, as I thought he was trying to help me. Some strange trust grew in me for him.

  ‘We need the list of people who lost their lives in the fire accident at the airport.’ He asked.

  ‘One second sir.’ She pressed a few keys and the mouse a few times.

  The printer rolled a paper and made a list. She handed it to Santhosh and said ‘Here’s the list of patients admitted here under the fire accident case. This column says if they’re alive or dead.’ She pointed out to a column.