by Durjoy Datta
‘She was never drawn towards me.’
‘How’s that possible. You’re the most dateable twenty-three-year-old ever.’
‘Is it your sense of humour why Smriti is drunk and in your arms?’
‘Repartee? I like that. Okay, screw that. When are you coming to office?’
I left the room without answering, leaving the two of them alone. I cried myself to sleep that night like a three-year-old, cursing Vibhor and punching my pillow. I needed to grow up. I decided I would bail on the counsellor’s job, skip on my notice period and start working with my brother if the going got any tougher than it already was.
37
Aisha Paul
I was my mother.
No matter what I did, it was what ran in my veins, there was nothing I could have done to fight genetics. But at least she was brave. Every day I would sit back in the washroom for hours at end, playing with the razor blade, marking where I would slice my wrists. Sometimes I would miss my class and sit on the roof thinking about whether jumping off and having my brain splattered on the sidewalk would solve anything. It would be worse on some days when I felt like doing it more but never gathered the courage to do so because it still felt like a selfish choice. A couple of weeks had passed and I hadn’t talked to Danish. We crossed each other in the corridors almost every day; we would acknowledge each other but never stop and talk.
Namrata kept a strict watch on me. She knew I had lied to Danish. But she kept her mouth shut. She never told anyone about it. It would be for nothing. No one would believe her or me, and Norbu would be beaten up again. No one had anything to gain out of it.
And why would I complain? Vibhor was good to me. He was nice, he always called, told me he loved me, and never misbehaved. He did kiss me a few times a day, more when his friends were around, probably to prove the rumours wrong, and at those moments I felt like dying. Just stop breathing. I closed my eyes every time his tongue went inside my mouth and I wished I would never wake up. But I always did.
I was dating my nightmare.
‘Here, she is,’ my mother said as soon as I got home. I saw my brother first. He was back from his science symposium trip and with him sitting on the sofa was Vibhor. I smiled weakly. ‘So Vibhor told me he has a get-together at his place tonight and you weren’t going because I wouldn’t give you permission?’
Yes, that’s what I’d told him.
‘And I have homework. There’s so much to do,’ I said.
‘Can’t you do it tomorrow?’
‘No, I have to give it tomorrow. It’s important. It’s 10 per cent of the total evaluation.’
‘You can go,’ said my mother and held my hand. ‘But only if Sarthak goes with you too.’
My mother looked at Vibhor.
‘Everyone’s invited, Aunty. I will drop them back by ten,’ said Vibhor brightly. Words choked in my throat. ‘I better be going now. I need to get some stuff.’ He bent and touched my mother’s feet, shook my hand followed by Sarthak’s, told us he would see us in the evening, and left.
My mother asked me what I wanted to wear to his house today. I ran to my room and closed the door behind me. Later that evening, Sarthak and I were in the auto hurtling towards my boyfriend’s house.
‘Is there something going on between the two of you?’ asked Sarthak.
‘Us? No!’ I said, putting on the smile and the brightness in my voice I had perfected over the last few days. A month or two and it would start coming naturally.
‘You know you can talk to me if there’s anything.’
‘I just wanted to stay at home and do my assignment, okay.’
‘I will help you complete that later.’
I nodded. By the time we reached there, Sarthak had nodded off with his head on my shoulder.
‘We are here.’
He woke up with a start and noticed my smudged kohl right away. Yes, I put on kohl. I wasn’t raped. What happened to me had to happen. So why wouldn’t I put on kohl? I fixed myself up.
‘HEY!’ Vibhor hugged us both, and welcomed us.
His friends were already there, drinking. Some of the faces I knew, some were new. He introduced me to them and some of them hugged me. I wondered if they had imagined me with him as well, if they would use me tonight as well if I pass out again. I felt nauseous. Both Norbu and Namrata had skipped.
Drinks were served and I was coerced. Drink, they said. It will be fun, they said. Don’t be such a bore, they said. Life’s great when you drink, they said over and over again. Making a girl drink had replaced charm. All the charm comes in a bottle full of vodka.
I told them I had loose motions and alcohol makes it worse. They backed off, making faces. Vibhor kept getting drunker as the evening progressed. His hands kept wandering, sometimes caressing my thigh, sometimes on my shoulder, Sarthak looked away every time he saw that happening. It took me all my might to not burst into tears.
A little later, Sarthak left with a friend of Vibhor’s to get more alcohol from the neighbourhood liquor store. Vibhor sat straight and addressed the rest of his friends as soon as he left.
‘I was waiting for her brother to leave,’ he said.
My heart jumped. What was he going to try?
‘We have a really funny story to tell,’ he said and took my hand into his. ‘That rape story?’ He looked at me and I laughed. That’s what he wanted, I guess. ‘Tell them!’ The story I had told Danish had stuck. It was the official story now.
I told his friends the story and they listened in rapt attention.
‘. . . and because he literally ravaged me, I used the word rape and Namrata misunderstood. It was all a big misunderstanding.’
I finished narrating the story; every word that escaped my mouth seemed to burn it. Everyone laughed and with them laughed Vibhor.
Sarthak came back and more drinks were poured. Sarthak stared at his phone for the most part of the evening. He knew about that night, the ugly rumour, and the official story but he didn’t say anything about it to me. I felt sorry for him. His sister was a PMSing slut.
One by one, our friends started calling it a night. Every time someone left I felt like screaming and asking them to stop. Save me, I wanted to shout and run. A few of them winked at us. Have a good night, they said. My hands felt cold. Sarthak was the last one to leave.
‘Dad called. I have to take Mom to the hospital for a check-up. Nothing serious though. Aisha, you can stay and come back later. But be home by ten, okay?’ said Sarthak.
‘What? What check-up?’ I asked, dialling Mom’s number.
Sarthak stopped and told me it wasn’t anything serious.
‘I will come with you?’
‘No, it’s fine, Aisha. Nothing to worry about. Just routine,’ said Sarthak.
‘I will drop her home later? In about an hour?’
‘Thank you, Vibhor.’
Sarthak’s head hung low.
‘I should really go, Vibhor. Please. I also need to do some homework.’
‘I will take care of that,’ said Vibhor, fished out his phone and called my mother. ‘Yes, Aunty. Aunty, can I drop Aisha home in a couple of hours? Of course, Aunty. Yes, sure, Aunty. And Sarthak just told us you need to get a check-up done? Should I send a car, Aunty? Okay, okay. No, Aisha was getting worried here. Yes, Aunty, I will ask Sarthak to go. Don’t worry, Aunty.’ He cut the call. ‘See? All handled.’
Sarthak wished us a good night. His eyes couldn’t meet mine as he left; his night wish hung in the air.
Once Sarthak left, we sat in front of the TV because I told him I wanted to watch a movie. A little later, Vibhor’s elder sister walked in. She had just had a kid a month back and still carried the extra weight.
‘It’s so tiring,’ she blurted out and sat next to me. ‘Never have a kid unless your in-laws love children.’
She showed me pictures and videos of her daughter who was as cute as a button.
‘I always wanted a daughter,’ she said. ‘There are so many clo
thes to choose from. Shopping for little boys is so boring.’
‘Please, haan?’ interrupted Vibhor. ‘A boy would have been so much better. At least I could have played with him.’
‘You can play with her as well, Vibhor. She’s your niece.’
‘Yeah, whatever,’ he said and peered into his phone.
His sister looked at me and took my hand into hers, ‘So, you two? I heard you guys are very serious, are you? I have never seen Vibhor dote on someone so much.’
I nodded.
‘Didi!’ protested Vibhor. ‘Can we not talk about this?’
‘See, he’s blushing so much,’ said her sister and laughed. ‘You look great together. I checked your pictures online. He doesn’t tell me anything.’
‘Hmm.’
Vibhor switched off the television. ‘Can we please stop this conversation? Didi, stop embarrassing her.’
‘Arre, what embarrassing her? I can’t talk to her or what?’
‘Let’s go, I’m too sleepy,’ said Vibhor, stretching his hand to take mine.
‘Can’t we stay for a while?’ I said. ‘At least finish your drink?’
He wasn’t drunk enough to pass out and leave me alone.
‘I’m done,’ he said.
He pulled me up from the couch, waved at his sister and led me towards the flight of stairs towards his room. I wanted to resist, stand and wrest my arm free, but couldn’t find the strength. Her sister winked and smiled at us from the couch.
And then, we were in his room, the lights were off, and he disappeared in the washroom for a few minutes. I sat on the bed, my head spinning, thinking of scenarios I could create to save myself from this. I felt nauseous, powerless, trapped. A voice shouted from inside of me—you can run away from this. RUN. RUN. But I couldn’t. A darkness came over and I couldn’t move. I felt bound. A little later, he emerged from the washroom, shirtless, with a little box in his hand.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘It’s for you.’
He ripped off the wrapping paper and thrust it in my hand. It was a little blue velvety box.
‘Because I love you so much,’ he said and kissed me on my cheek like he really did love me. But if he did, why did he do what he did that night? People were right, I thought as I opened the box, I was overthinking. I had passed out, he was drunk, I was his girlfriend, and he did what he had to do. And who knows, maybe we would have done the same thing if I had been awake? So why the fuss? Why was I acting so pricey? I should feel lucky I had him. I had no reason to be a cranky bitch. It’s not as if I could have got someone better to date me and fuck me. It was a favour he had done me. I am such a fool, I thought. I smiled.
‘Do you like it?’
‘This is so sweet.’ I told him and he hugged me again. It was an iPhone with my name engraved on it in pure gold. Now who would have matched that? I hugged him back despite my body not wanting to touch his.
He kissed me, this time full on the lips, and I tried kissing him back but it didn’t happen. I closed my eyes and willed my tears to stay. He pushed me onto the bed. He slipped his hand in. The silent tears came. I swallowed hard.
His hand was awfully warm; his breath became ragged as he nuzzled at my neck, I opened my eyes and watched the lamp at the side table. I thought if I stared hard enough, maybe nothing of this would register. He took his remaining clothes off and came over me. Never have I been so aware of every inch of my skin. His body was warm and sweaty. I waited for everything to be okay. Nothing is happening. Nothing is happening. This is all okay, Aisha. This is all okay. He loves you. He really does. I wanted to howl. I squealed instead. Nothing was wrong here. He loved me. He brought me gifts. His mother knows me and yet I mumbled, ‘I don’t want to do this, Vibhor.’
He shut me up with a kiss, a foreign tongue inside my mouth and he whispered, ‘It will be fun,’ and took off my clothes.
‘No,’ I mumbled again. He didn’t listen. His kissed me again. I saw him fumble with a condom and he put it on. I cried a little more. I felt weak, defeated. I tried pushing him away but his body was too heavy, he was too strong. Why is this happening? He pushed himself in. Even I couldn’t listen to myself over his grunts. He grunted and moaned and bit me and sucked me. I lay there staring at the lamp telling myself it’s okay, it’s okay, its normal, at least he loves me, at least he loves me, and cried.
Once done, he rolled up, pulled up his boxers, kissed me and said, ‘See, I told you it will be fun.’ And smiled. He kissed me again. ‘Hey? Do you mind if the driver drops you in a bit?’
I shook my head. He rolled over and went to sleep.
*
I wrote a note for him. Initially, it was four pages long but by the time I kept it under the new phone he had gifted me, it had only two sentences.
I’m breaking up with you. I don’t deserve this.
I came back home, took a shower, slipped next to my mother, hugged her, cried and went off to sleep.
38
Danish Roy
I was pathetic, unintelligent, and lived off the power and position of my folks, but even I outdid myself. That day I was eating the same salad, and the same amount of alcohol as I had on my date with Aisha to mourn my unrequited love for a girl who was busy living it up with her boyfriend. It was a new low for me, which is saying a lot. I missed her, we hadn’t talked in weeks. It was my third straight hour of Tekken 3 when I ran out of coins and cash. I went all around the mall to withdraw cash from an ATM and by the time I was back, someone had taken my place, and she was good. The combo hits were all in place, the flying kicks were precise, and she blocked perfectly well.
I put in a coin into the other slot. The game screen beeped ‘New Challenger.’
Aisha looked at me. ‘You? Here?’
‘Same question,’ I said, and told her I was getting bored at home. ‘You come here often?’
‘I might be addicted.’
‘You’re winning,’ I pointed out. ‘Then why are you crying?’
‘I’m not crying,’ she said, wiping her face with her sleeve. ‘It’s just condensation. I came from a cold place.’
‘I’m sure that’s a thing. Oh, here’s my player. You’re so dead.’
We played through 35 coins without talking. There was no place for words when two Tekken champions faced off. Way too much was on stake. She was good; it went down to the wire, and she beat me 16–19. I had to pay for the coins.
‘I broke up with him,’ she said. ‘I wrote a note and left it on his side table.’
‘Still better than a text.’
I wanted to jump up and down and shout and dance a little.
‘Are you doing okay?’ I asked.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Relationships are not for me.’
‘Everyone says that after a break up,’ I said, not wanting the future Aisha to never be with me.
‘No, really, I’m done. I better leave now. Mom must be waiting for me. She’s undergoing some tests.’
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes. They are routine. Happens once every year. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Okay. Haven’t seen you in a bit. So thought we could hang out a little more,’ I said in the most non-sorry, undesperate tone I could manage.
‘I can’t. I have to go.’
We walked towards the exit of the mall.
‘I’m leaving the school soon,’ I said to make her stay as she turned to get an auto. ‘There will be a new counsellor coming soon.’
She nodded and tried waving down an auto. ‘I don’t need one any more. I plan to stick to the rules. No point trying to be someone else.’
‘Of course, there’s a point,’ I said. ‘I think you were doing great.’
An auto finally stopped in front of her and she asked the man if he would go to Pitampura. The man nodded and switched on the meter. ‘There’s my auto,’ she said and jumped into it as if actively trying to get away from me.
‘Bye.’
She left. I had to stop pursuing
her, the reluctance on her face was far too evident for me to miss.
39
Sarthak Paul
Everyone knew I was gay.
I stepped inside my classroom and I could feel the hatred claw into my skin. My secret was finally out there. I didn’t know how it happened or who did it, but I knew everyone believed it. We tend to easily believe things like these. A few guys smirked and looked at me from top to bottom and shook their heads. It felt different from what I always thought it would feel like when I came out of the closet. Though I hadn’t walked out of the closet—I was pushed out of it. But I didn’t want to run and hide as I thought I would, instead I felt defiant, and I stared back at them.
So what? What the fuck will you do if you know I’m gay? Try anything and I will knock your fucking teeth out.
I took my seat. The guy I used to sit with had taken a different seat and was gossiping raucously with three other classmates of mine. My past behaviour was being scanned with the gay lens on it.
‘Oh, he asked you to be a partner in your laboratory experiment?’
‘Shit. I didn’t know. He used to be in the locker all the time!’
‘I had caught him staring quite a few times.’
Suddenly, I was not only gay but a gay slut who stared and leched and touched people inappropriately. By the third period, I had been spat on by a guy, ignored by my lab partners, and called to the principal’s office.
‘Sarthak,’ said the principal. ‘What am I hearing?’
‘What are you hearing, sir?’
The wall of defiance was crumbling, and behind it I was weak; I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long.
‘That you’re gay, Sarthak. I am sure you know about this,’ he said.
‘I have heard the rumour, sir.’
‘And? What do you want to say about it?’
In the split second I had to answer the principal’s question, I wondered which way to go, towards freedom and sadness, or hiding and happiness. I chose to lie.
‘That’s it . . . it’s a rumour.’
‘Fine. I’m getting calls from all the parents and I don’t want to hear about this from anyone else. Do I make myself clear?’ I nodded. ‘You can go now.’
