Fear Is the Key

by Juggi Bhasin

  Suhel wanted to wring her neck. He mumbled something to himself as Rahul smiled coolly and ordered some tea on the intercom. He walked outside the conference facility and placed a call to Simone.

  ‘We need you in here. Why haven’t you come?’ he said in a loud whisper.

  Simone snapped back. ‘I have just walked in. You will have to excuse me if I am not up for this.’

  ‘But . . .’

  Simone’s voice was a little shrill. ‘Why do you insist, Rahul? Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you have any idea about the stress I am in? For the last forty-eight hours, my team and I have been skewered by the entire country. Do you think I am enjoying this?’

  ‘Sorry. I . . . I was just asking . . .’

  ‘Don’t!’

  She raised her voice sharply and shut off her phone. Rahul let off a subdued whistle and walked back to the conference facility. He looked surprisingly cheerful as he came in.

  ‘Hope they are pampering you with the good stuff, Shalini. Ah, I see some cake. Can I bribe you with some of it? Maybe you will write a couple of favourable lines about me?’

  Shalini laughed. ‘I will think about it. You were saying?’

  Rahul gave a little bow, sat down and cut some cake for Shalini.

  ‘Cherry cake for the cherry pick among all reporters.’

  ‘Nice try, Rahul,’ said Shalini, smiling broadly and accepting the cake. ‘I am flattered, but I am not so easily moved. I am looking for some real answers out here, not a cover-up job. There are people gunning for you, and with good reason. Till now, both of you have been evasive with your replies. I am beginning to get the feeling that your company has a lot more to hide than to show.’ Rahul’s pleasant demeanour suddenly gave way to a sombre expression. He looked like a general who had come home after spending long years on the battlefield. He looked lost, a little distracted, as if all his victories meant nothing to him. He looked deep into Shalini’s eyes. His voice was a mere whisper.

  ‘Do you know why I built all this, Shalini?’

  Shalini frowned, a little taken aback by the change of mood.

  ‘No. Tell me why?’

  Rahul let out a long sigh; he looked completely vulnerable.

  ‘I will tell you. But before that, I have another question for you. Do you have any idea what it means to study for IIT, before and after you have joined it?’

  ‘Look, I know it’s tough . . .’

  Rahul shook his head, and then, bending low, he stayed in that posture for a few seconds. Shalini, for once, didn’t know how to respond.

  When he looked up after some time, there was the hint of tears in his eyes.

  ‘I never had a childhood, Shalini . . . I don’t think I ever ate an orange bar or played a game of cricket with friends my age. I think I saw my first movie only in the second year of college. I gave it all up for the sake of getting into IIT.’

  ‘It couldn’t have been so bad.’

  ‘You have no idea what it meant for me to study and prepare for this institute. I think I was in class VIII when my father sat me down one day and drilled into my head that I had to get into IIT. My father was a lowly government servant. I could never really understand the reason why he so obsessively wanted me to get into IIT. I guess you have a dream so you can parade your achievement before friends or relatives. We had neither. My mother died when I was in high school. My father had not kept up with any relatives and he didn’t have any friends from office. There was just the two of us. Anyway, my life changed after my father took that decision for me.’

  ‘It’s not as if other kids who study for IIT haven’t had a childhood,’ said Shalini gently. She was getting a little uncomfortable with the change in the line of questioning.

  Rahul rested his head on the back of the chair and stared at the ceiling. He spoke, ‘I will tell you what made it different. My father had no money for tuition classes. I started with a disadvantage. My father never shouted at me or lifted his hand, but at an impressionable age, I took on the pressure he subtly applied on me. I stopped playing with other kids in the evenings, I never once asked for money to go on school trips. I looked inwards and made my father’s dream my only goal. Everything changed for me. Life was never the same again . . .’

  Shalini could not help but press his hand to comfort him.

  Rahul continued with his story. ‘In a sense, the change in my circumstances helped me get in touch with myself very early in life. I discovered I had a gift for understanding and playing with numbers. My extraordinary numerical ability eventually helped me get into IIT. Once I was in, I thought I could relax. But I was so wrong. There were many others like me with similar, nay even better, abilities. It soon became a competitive slog. I could not slack. I was in dead heat with at least five other students for top honours in class.’

  Rahul slowed down, and Shalini waited for him to pick up the thread. She suddenly remembered from an earlier article that Suhel and Rahul had been inseparable at IIT.

  ‘Where did Suhel come into all this? He’s been your closest buddy through thick and thin, right?’

  Rahul recovered some of his good mood. He smiled. ‘Let the man answer for himself,’ he said.

  Suhel shifted his weight on the chair. His beady eyes opened a fraction more than usual. He drew in a deep breath and reluctantly opened up.

  ‘Lady, I do the heavy lifting out here, not the nimble talk.’

  ‘Have a go at it, Suhel,’ urged Shalini. ‘Call it a service you would be doing for your best buddy.’

  Suhel was at a loss for words. Eventually, he spoke. ‘First things first. Let’s get the context correct. I scraped through to qualify for IIT, while Rahul was a rank holder. Yes, I was his best buddy in the sense that he helped me scrape through many term exams. You could count on the man to be loyal to duffers like me. I was more interested in organizing events, be it the annual inter-college festival, rock concerts, music festivals with SPIC MACAY . . .’

  ‘And that organizing ability has been put to good use here?’ Shalini chipped in, making a subtle point.

  Suhel’s beady eyes closed. He then spoke with his trademark toughness. ‘Subtlety is lost on me, lady. Let me give you the full picture. Right through school and IIT to Yummimages, Rahul and I have been the yin and yang—two opposites who, despite all odds, get along well. Don’t ask me how. We just do. And to answer your question, I take full responsibility for this political boo-boo. Rahul has nothing to do with it. He operates at 36,000 feet. I work on ground zero. The fault can never be in the stars. I was lax with those operating in the field. Does this answer satisfy you?’

  There was an awkward silence. It was not lost on Shalini that the relationship between the two men was far more complex than what was being put out. She suddenly had a sense that Rahul was about to tell her something important before the subject of Suhel derailed the conversation. She resolved to rub Rahul’s sensitive vein once again.

  She sighed. ‘You were talking about your time in IIT, Rahul. Tell me more.’

  Rahul tapped on the table and his fingers reached for the pack of cigarettes lying next to the ash tray.

  ‘I don’t usually smoke, but sometimes the urge gets to me.’

  He toyed with a cigarette, and Shalini shifted gears.

  ‘Am I making you nervous?’

  ‘Maybe. At the very least, you are opening the floodgates of memory. Look, I could not shake off the sense of responsibility I had on my shoulders when I made a promise to my dad. I kept pushing myself to achieve more. I developed a habit to perform, and it would not leave me. I was always competing with someone. I won many times, but they gave me no joy. I would forever feel empty. I would clear one test with distinction and start thinking of the next. That was my life, and I got no joy out of it.’

  Rahul’s eyes began to swim with tears, and with his hands shaking, he lit a cigarette and drew in a lungful of smoke.

  ‘Sorry, I am breaking my own office protocol. I should be fired for this. And
to top it all, I am subjecting you to passive smoke.’

  Shalini smiled and opened her purse to offer Rahul a tissue. She found herself in the odd position of having to comfort him.

  ‘It must have been very tough for you?’

  ‘Yes, it was,’ Rahul said, dabbing at his eyes with the tissue Shalini had offered. ‘Suhel was a lifeline during those days. The only thing that got me a little excited was his events. He kept plugging at them with clockwork regularity. His events helped me escape to another world. In our fourth year, close to graduation, all the events gave me an idea.’

  Shalini raised an eyebrow. Suddenly Rahul looked charged, driven with purpose. He spoke with childlike excitement.

  ‘Don’t you get it, Shalini? Okay, let me explain. What do events do? They allow people to lose themselves in an alternative reality. You move out of your present state to another place that promises fun . . . lots and lots of fun. That was the key. That was the missing link I had been looking for all these years in IIT.’

  Rahul leaned towards Shalini, his face shining with enthusiasm.

  ‘I then knew what I wanted. I wanted to reclaim the childhood I had left behind. That was the essence of my business idea. I never again wanted to be driven like a madman, pursuing a goal in isolation. I wanted to have lots and lots of fun and provide the same energy to millions. That’s how Yummimages was born. That’s our mantra, Shalini. We want to spread joy, some irreverence. We want people to laugh, share the good times with us. All we are trying to do is bring a smile to people’s faces. We have no other vested interests. I knew my idea was simple but powerful. It appeals to everyone. My reporter, Joshua, was operating on the same principle. Only, he got carried away and crossed a line. Does he deserve to be hanged for what he said and did? I leave it to you to decide.’

  With this, Rahul leaned back. He seemed lost in thought. Shalini looked at him, at a loss for words. She felt connected to Rahul. She tore her eyes away from his animated face, checked her purse out of habit and then clicked it shut.

  She got up and the two men escorted her to the door. She turned and shook Rahul’s proffered hand. ‘It’s been . . . well . . . very interesting,’ she told him. ‘They call me the bitch with a Sony tape recorder. Yeah, I might be that, but I listen when someone tells me a story, a real story. Let’s stay in touch. Goodbye.’

  She gave the two men a curt nod and walked out. As she disappeared into the elevators, Rahul looked at Suhel.

  ‘Well?’

  Suhel wiped his sweaty face with a paper napkin and grinned.

  ‘Well what? You nailed it, pal. What a storyteller you are! You made such an impression on her that as soon as she gets into a closed room, she will start rubbing her panties all breathless with your name!’

  ‘Pervert!’

  ‘I am fine with being one if it saves the company. Man, I can’t get over your performance. I half expected her to open her blouse and put her tits into your mouth to comfort you. Only I know how hard it was for me not to burst out laughing!’

  Rahul rolled his eyes and shook his head. There really was nothing one could do about the character that Suhel was.

  ‘Okay, I am out of here. Let me check on Simone. I sense a problem there.’

  ‘Yeah, you do that, take care of the women. That’s your core competence! In the meantime, let me go kick some butt to drive up the troops and the stock.’

  Rahul exited the conference facility, and Suhel went in to retrieve his file. And as he did, a thought struck him. He sat down heavily. Suddenly, he was bathed in sweat. Rahul had earlier mentioned the opening of ‘floodgates of memory’. He saw clearly, once again, the scene that refused to disappear from his mind. The band’s lead guitarist was in a frenzy. He was jumping across the stage, firing up his audience and band members. The overhead lights changed to a lurid red from a deep purple. The guitarist jumped, and it was followed by a heart-stopping, guttural scream. The guitarist was plucked off the ground and flung several feet away into a shower of sparks and flames. He screamed as his hair and clothes caught fire.

  Suhel saw himself racing up the aisle towards the guitarist. The smell of burning flesh hit his nostrils as he approached the performer.

  Sitting in the conference facility, Suhel felt the puke come up as the smell of burning flesh came back to haunt him.

  CHAPTER 3

  It was a go-ahead. Suhel gave the team leaders the green signal to do what they did best. Only Joshua, a little shaken by the events of the last twenty-four hours, offered self-imposed censorship. He called up Suhel.

  ‘Chief, we almost got burnt. Should I scale down the reporting a little?’

  Suhel was hunched up in his cabin, watching the stock ticker move right to left on his laptop. He was on his fourth cup of black coffee and his second doughnut since morning. The anchor on CNBC, Shireen, was interviewing an old fogey. He took his time to answer Joshua’s call. He saw the Yummimages stock price glide past him. It was up by almost eight points. He grunted in satisfaction as he closed the laptop and answered the call.

  ‘Bhootni ke, did you leave all your guts behind at Jantar Mantar? Why don’t you go back and pick some of them and stuff them back in. Arsehole, have I asked you to slow down? Who do you think we are? Are we Doordarshan with a tootni sound that completes its circular logo in half a century? If I don’t see us trending on Twitter by the evening, you can collect your exit cheque from the guard outside the office. No need to come in.’

  After this outburst, Suhel took a large bite of the doughnut and washed it down with coffee. He drummed his fingers on the table and placed a conference call to the team leaders out on the field. He then proceeded to give them a glimpse of why his colleagues called him, in hushed whispers, ‘Rabid Suhel’.

  ‘Skirt chasers and all you braless wonders! I believe all of you are on the field, shoving mikes in peoples’ faces. I wanted to tell you that there are two kinds of deadly viruses that defy all treatment. One is the AIDS virus and the other is the virus of doubt. I have spoken to one of your tribe, infected by the latter, and he’s on “deliver or go” mode. As are all of you. If I find even one of you mother- and boyfriend-fuckers diluting sync and scaling down the abuse, I won’t just fire you. I will come after you with a cricket bat. I want our stock to gain at least two more points by the time trading ends. I gain from it, but so will you. All of us here, in big or small measures, are Yummimages stockholders. Let’s get rich, people! Now repeat after me . . . Rabid dog Suhel is a motherfucker, but he pays my bills!’

  The shocked team leaders weakly echoed the line. Suhel snapped back. ‘Louder, ladies! Did you not have breakfast and jerk off in the morning? Louder!’

  Their voices rose. Suhel got up from his chair, took out a cricket bat from the cupboard and war-danced in his cabin. ‘Louder, louder, ladies,’ he led the chant. ‘Louder!’ He soon whipped them up in a frenzy and abruptly hung up. He was sweating heavily, and his shifty eyes shone with a strange light.

  Suhel had charged the troops to the point where they lost all sense of proportion. Case in point: Delhi’s infamous road rage. Yummimages teams spread across locations asking leading questions. The intent was to provoke, not contain.

  CHAPTER 4

  Simone opened her locker at the Fort swimming complex and took out her swimsuit. She looked at the bai sitting outside the wash area, maintaining a register, and casually asked, ‘Where’s the swimming instructor? I don’t see him around?’

  ‘He was not feeling well, Madam. He’s taken the day off. Should I ask for someone else?’

  Simone shut the locker and without turning back said, ‘No need. I will manage. I think my swimming is improving by the day.’

  She took off her skirt and blouse and headed for a pre-swim shower. She caught a look at herself in the changing room mirror. She looked fit, almost sculpted, with a bronze sheen. Her breasts were firm and her nipples were provocatively erect. She tied her hair in a bun and slid on the swimming cap, looking into the mirror all th
is while. She had to admit she was a little struck by her own self. She put a hand on her breast and feather-touched her nipple. Suddenly, she felt something move in the reflection staring back at her. Her breath came in sharply and she spun around, but there was no one there. Her eyes widened with fear.

  She put on her swimsuit and headed for the shower. By the time she came out of the changing room, it was dark and the lights had come on in the pool. There was hardly anyone around. A lone, powerfully built man was doing lengths at the other end. She tested the temperature of the water with her toes and, very carefully, descended into the pool. She chose the lane along the perimeter. She could not stop thinking that this would be the first time she would swim without her instructor.

  She could see the bai looking carefully at her. Would she able to do lengths or would she give up? She almost felt as if she was on trial. She could not get out of it now. It would mean a loss of face if she left the pool without having swum even a single length. The pressure was mounting. Suhel was screwing up her career. Everything that was dear to her was slowly slipping out of her grasp. An unknown fear, emerging from nowhere, had settled in her. Nothing seemed to be going right. She felt weighed down by the pressure as she put on her swimming goggles and struck out in the pool.

  Her first length went by almost free of any incident. She was swimming strong, using her arms rhythmically as coached by her instructor. Her feet kicked up a good wake. She hit the end of the pool and turned around for her second length. From the corner of her eye, she saw that the powerful-looking swimmer was climbing out of the pool. The middle-aged man was built strong, and she noticed a huge bulge poking against his swimming trunks. Maybe he had gone erect after quietly observing her from the other side. One never knew about these things. She knew she was attractive. Simone smiled despite her preoccupied mind. For a moment, she wondered what had happened to the fun-loving Simone. She couldn’t even recall when that dark cloud had come over her life.

  She completed her second length. With her peripheral vision she saw that the man had draped a towel around his waist and was leisurely walking towards the men’s room. He disappeared from her vision around the same time that she completed her second length. She flipped and started strong with her third length. A part of her wanted to show the bai that she had learnt well and was up to the task. She looked out for her on the left. The bai was not in her chair.